


True Kinda Love

by cathema



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Basically just teens being angsty and emotional teens, Descriptions of family issues and loss, Familial DLAMPR - Freeform, Lots of Cursing, M/M, Platonic Analogical - Freeform, Platonic Moxiety, but they all love each other, mutual pining Roceit, platonic anxceit - Freeform, platonic dukexiety - Freeform, platonic intrulogical - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 91,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25894225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathema/pseuds/cathema
Summary: At the lunch table at the far corner of the cafeteria sits six friends: twin brothers Roman and Remus, their childhood friend Patton and his best friend Virgil, Roman's theater confidante Janus, and, the new addition, Logan.Everything is perfect — as long as they believe it to be, as long as their secrets and repressed issues don't ruin the one thing that matters to them the most: their friendship.But Virgil is constantly on his toes, convinced that it isn't meant to last. Patton will do everything he can to keep them all together. Remus struggles with the crippling feeling of loneliness while Roman clings desperately onto the attention and validation of Janus who seems to have his life in perfect order (or so he makes them believe). Meanwhile, Logan is burdened with having to keep their secrets, but no one is listening to his advice.This is a story of friends who pretend they aren't damaged...until they realize that they all are, and that they can get through the damage together.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Sleep | Remy Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 175
Kudos: 172





	1. Where It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> In which we meet the Kings.

Roman stands in front of the double doors of the auditorium with a determined look in his face. His heart thumps in time with the chaos around him—students chattering and rushing past for their after-school commitments—as he takes a second to remember the notes of his audition piece.

With a nod of his head, he pushes the doors and strides down the staircase, making a mental note of the panel, the kids in his theater club all spread out and nervously preparing for their own audition, and the pianist thumbing through sheet music by the side of the stage.

Roman takes a seat near the front rows and hums. He’s been rehearsing his piece for two weeks (much to Remus’s ire at home) but he finds that it doesn’t do much for his nerves at that moment.

Ask anyone and they’ll laugh at the thought; Roman has been taking the lead roles of school plays since Elementary, so much so that he’d earned the nickname “Princey” in honor of all his portrayals of Prince Charming, that no one dared go up against him. And yet, Roman knew better than to let his guard down. After all, he is never _not_ reminded of his crushed pride in Middle School when he lost the role of Macbeth to the new kid who, prior to auditions, never expressed interest nor displayed his talents as flamboyantly as Roman had. Roman had been so confident that time that his embarrassing defeat left him quite shaken, unable to leave his room for days.

From then on, Roman made a point to put on a performance that always left a better impression than the last. Because if his “rival” was going to show him up, Roman would be damned if he didn’t put up a fight first.

Roman looks around the auditorium searching for the person in question.

“Nervous, my Prince?”

Roman whips his head around and sees Janus Dean leaning over on the back of his chair and flashing his familiar smirk. “I would have thought you’d know your piece by heart by now,” Janus teases.

Roman laughs. “Me, nervous? I was just wondering where you were slithering around, Severus Snake.”

“Terrified I’ll steal the spotlight from you again?”

“Hah, you did once and I never let you again since.”

Janus shrugs. “More like, the lead roles since the-play-that-must-not-be-named have never been as riveting.”

“Oh, please,” Roman huffs. “I’m better than you and you know it.” Janus chuckles. “Sure.”

Roman regards his rival from the corner of his eyes. Well, he hardly calls him “rival” nowadays. His animosity towards him has gotten lost over the years, after Roman realized that Janus had more interest in playing anti-heroes and villains. Janus quickly grew to become a theater colleague Roman respected and, in time, became his best friend.

But neither would ever admit that fact.

“You’re still coming over for dinner later, right?” Roman asks.

“Like I would miss your mom’s baked salmon,” Janus scoffs. “Let’s just get this audition over and done with.”

“You read my mind.”

The audition goes by like a breeze, as it always did. Janus and Roman emerge from the school’s front doors criticizing each other’s performance.

“That flourish at the end was a bit much,” Janus says. “But what else can I expect from you, Dr. Do-the-most?”

“Okay, but at least my song was flawless. _You_ , my callous comrade, were really pitchy,” Roman shrugs.

They reach a bright red Honda Fit at the parking lot and climb on with Roman on the driver’s seat. He waits for Janus to settle down and buckle his seat belt before connecting his phone to the radio. “Any request?” he asks.

Janus gives it a thought. “Moulin Rouge.”

“Tviet or McGregor?”

“Tough. Let’s do Tviet.”

“Bitch, I’d do him any day.”

“Oh honey, you read my mind.”

They cackle as the first beats of “Chandelier” start blasting through the speakers and Roman reverses the car to drive home.

The King residence isn’t one that seems fit for royalty but it’s certainly better than most. It’s two stories high with a double basement and is rather too spacious for a household of three.

Roman lives there with his twin brother, Remus, and their mother, Valerie, a dentist. Despite this, their home is rarely quiet and lonesome; Roman often sang or played his songs on loudspeaker whichever room he went while Remus tinkered away loudly on whatever science or art experiment he was working on that day. On other occasions, the two would fill the silence with their incessant bickering, yells, and laughter about whatever was playing on TV.

It’s because of this that their home is always open to friends on weeknights and weekend sleepovers. It became the go-to hangout spot for the twins’ large and atypical group of friends. Valerie could say that it’s like being a homeroom adviser to her own high school class except she is _very much_ grateful that she wasn’t.

But she hardly minds that her sons’ friends have viewed their humble domicile as their second home. She loves them all equally (maybe a tad bit more than she did her own children) and she always makes a point to show it in her cooking.

That Monday evening, as she sees Roman’s car pull up on the driveway, she takes the tray of baked salmon off the oven and carefully places it on individual plates—the way she knows Janus prefers it to be, untouched by other sidings and meat and leaving no unnecessary effort for him to personally take his own portion from the serving platter.

She finishes setting down the meals just as Roman bursts through the door announcing his arrival. “I’m home, mother!”

Valerie laughs. “I know, sweetheart.”

“Evening, Mrs. King,” Janus greets curtly, making a motion as though he is tipping an invisible hat. “You look more gorgeous every day.”

“And you look as dapper as ever,” Valerie tells him, earning a giddy laugh.

“The wonders of the women’s department,” he says.

“Remus, dinner’s ready!” Roman yells from the table. Almost instantly, loud footsteps descend the stairs and Remus emerges, holding up a wide bangle made of pop tabs and green elastic cord. “Mom, made you a gift!” he says, parading the DIY project on the palm of his hand.

“Where’d you get all those tabs?” Roman asks with a quirk of his brow.

“I dug around the school trash bins,” Remus answers. “What—I _cleaned_ them!”

“It’s lovely, Remmy, thank you,” Valerie says, kissing Remus on the cheek.

Remus sneers. “Ew, mom, don’t be gross in front of Roman’s boyfriend.”

Roman rolls his eyes. Valerie chuckles as she glances toward a sneering Janus who, though used to Remus’s insistence that they were dating, never failed to react with contempt.

Dinner is lively, as usual. Roman begins to recount his successful audition, parts of which Janus claims is highly exaggerated, before talking about how Janus botched his, which the boy in question describes as Roman’s “futile attempt to conceal his evident astonishment by my risqué performance.”

“You aren’t the only one who loves to up the ante year after year, Prince,” Janus adds.

Remus, then, butts in with gross science trivia he learned that day (“Did you know bacteria on your feet eat your sweat to survive?”), much to the disgust of Roman (“Really? Right in front of my salad?”). Bickering ensues between them while Valerie and Janus discuss their dinner and the news headlines that evening, completely drowning out the chaos around them.

It’s a kind of normal evening in the King household, and Valerie wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dinner ends and Roman takes off with Janus to bring him home, and Remus stays behind to help wash the dishes. It’s during these moments when he feels the crashing wave of loneliness the most—alone in the kitchen of a big house with only the sound of water and his discordant thoughts cutting through the silence.

It’s rare for Remus to feel these pangs of desolation; he was often busy with art and social media and yelling at Roman to even think about his miserable life. He’ll never dare confess it to anyone, but he envies Roman’s involvement in theater and the company he keeps. Roman never had time to wallow in misery like Remus tends to do in these quiet hours before sleep; Remus never had any extra-curricular activities to be preoccupied with. He often went home on his own where he’d play games on their shared PlayStation or start whatever random project he thinks of.

It’s only rare because Remus isn’t one to care about being a lone wolf, about veering from the status quo, about sticking out like a sore thumb amid a sea of high schoolers. He only cares when he becomes painfully aware of the void in his heart created by their father who had left them all those years ago in this house too huge for a family of three.

Remus is nothing like Roman. On most days, he is proud of it. He doesn’t care for appearances especially since he knows people would make fun of him anyway (poliosis isn’t common knowledge, after all). And if people are going to keep comparing him to his “hotter” and “more popular” twin, then Remus should just be unashamed to be himself—eccentric, crude, and ugly. Besides, the only person whose opinion mattered to Remus was Roman’s, and as long as Roman loves him for the way he was, Remus doesn’t care what everyone else thinks.

But, boy, does Remus wish he could know how to act like his brother does. Then maybe he could fool himself into thinking that he isn’t lonely.

Remus turns off the tap as he places the last plate on the dish rack and sprints upstairs to his room, dropping his weight on the mattress. He grabs his phone from the nightstand where it had been charging and decides to distract himself from his thoughts the only way any teenager knew how—scrolling mindlessly through his social network.

He uploads a photo of the pop tab bangle he made and receives a comment from his and Roman’s friend, Patton Picani. “Amazing! Teach me!!”

Another comment comes from Virgil Rivers, who asks the same thing Roman had at the dinner table. Remus replies the same response he had given, which earns a “Rad” from Virgil and a “What?!” from Patton. Remus snorts and exits the app.

He completely forgets what he had been so sad about ten minutes ago. Instead, he flips the switch of his lamp and settles into a comfortable slumber.

Tomorrow is a new day.


	2. Part Of Their World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Logan arrives and Patton believes this year will be the best one yet.

Logan Evans is the kind of person no one dares to mess with.

Sure, his being the class nerd has gotten him in unfortunate circumstances of being shoved in the hallways or ridiculed with undignified nicknames, but Logan is never one to cower in fear at the lowest levels of the social hierarchy.

No one ever had to force him to do their homework; he always agreed, but in exchange for something else—money, a book, or, on strange occasions, a jar of jam. He always volunteered to complete group assignments on his own as well, finding peace in having little contact with people he didn’t care about and not having his day ruined by stupid ideas.

When Logan is in charge, no one questions it. So when onlookers notice him walking with determination towards Remus King, whose back is resting against his locker and is busy picking his nose, they did what they did best: turn away and pretend they saw nothing.

Logan stops five feet away from him. “Greetings, Remus.” 

Remus jumps slightly, whipping his head around to stare at Logan with an incredulous expression. “Huh?” he says.

“Logan Evans.” Logan places his hand on his chest. “I’m in the same AP Biology class as you. I was wondering if you would like to be my partner for the science paper.”

Remus blinks. “What science paper?”

“I figured that we’ll be assigned a paper soon, if not today, as we reach the end of the lesson,” Logan replies as he adjusts his glasses. “I am merely preparing for the eventuality and expressing interest in partnering with you. While your ideas in class may be a bit, err, unorthodox, I must say that I am rather intrigued by them. I am seizing this opportunity to pick your brain.”

Remus snorts. “Let me slice my head open with a chainsaw and my brain is all yours for your picking, Specs.”

Logan shuffles his feet in unease. He doesn’t know what Remus is like, other than the fact that he’s a very aloof character. Judging by the bulk in his arms, however, Logan is convinced that Remus is very much capable of shoving him against the lockers and breaking his nose. His fingers tremble slightly; he musn’t allow himself to provoke his classmate.

“You don’t have to do any work. I can write the whole paper,” he offers—a script he’s learned by heart in every group project he’s ever done through the years. It was a magic line that could pacify any jock and bully with whom Logan has had the misfortune of crossing paths with. He’s sure this would assuage Remus’s evident annoyance.

However, he isn’t prepared for Remus’s scowl to deepen even further. “Are you kidding? I’m no freeloader. If you want to ‘pick my brain’ I’m not going to let you take all the credit,” he says.

Remus leans forward with narrowed eyes as though scrutinizing every part of Logan’s face. Logan gulps and feels a sweat form on his brow.

“I’m surprised you chose me out of all people,” Remus says, still rooted to his spot. “Nerds like you, especially, turn and run in fear the moment they see me.”

Logan balls his hands into fists to control their shaking. “I fail to see what’s fearful about you.”

Remus’s chuckle is menacing. “Wow, either you’ve been living under a rock all this time or you’re too busy hunched over your books to know what’s going on around you.”

“I care little for gossip.”

“Obviously.” Remus straightens his back and Logan lets out a sigh of relief. He then stares in surprise at the open palm extended towards him.

“I feel we’re going to be great friends, Logie,” Remus tells him with a grin. “Wanna have lunch together?”

Logan blinks. “Lunch?”

“Got any other friends to hang out with?”

Logan slowly shakes his head. Remus laughs, “Didn’t think so. Come on.”

Remus grabs Logan’s hand to pull him into a sideward hug and drags him all the way to the cafeteria.

One true thing about Logan is that he doesn’t care to maintain friendships. He thinks that having friends at an age where his peers are hormonal and emotionally imbalanced is hardly worth the trouble and the trauma.

But Logan lets Remus drag him towards a large table at the far corner of the cafeteria where three others are sitting and having an animated discussion.

“Hey dweebs,” Remus bellows, quickly gathering the attention of the table. “Meet Logan.”

“Greetings,” Logan says through a tight smile.

“Did you kidnap him?” a boy with disheveled black hair and tired eyes asks pointedly.

“ _He_ approached me, and now we’re friends!” Remus shoves Logan down on the bench before sitting across him.

Another boy who looks exactly like Remus but with lighter brown hair and a more pleasant expression laughs in disbelief. “No, really, blink twice if you’re being held hostage,” he tells Logan.

Logan clears his throat. “Remus had courteously invited me to lunch. I merely obliged.”

“He said he wanted to crack my head open and steal my brain!”

“Falsehood, that’s—”

The boy in black nods in understanding. “Well, now it makes sense.”

Another boy in a light blue polo shirt waves at him from the other end of the table beside the Remus-lookalike. “Hiya! I’m Patton!”

“Hello,” Logan greets.

“Yeah, that’s our lovely angel, Patton,” Remus tells him. “And that undead raccoon is Virgil.”

“Sup.”

“And this is my stupid, single brain celled twin, Roman.”

Taking offense, Roman shoves Remus with his elbow. “Hey!”

Realization dawns on Logan. “Oh, you’re Roman from theater club.”

Roman beams at that. “Yes, the one and lonely!” He gasps. “Oops, Freudian slip!”

Remus glares at him. “You’re so gay, it makes me barf.”

“Well, your whole existence makes everyone barf, Rem.”

“And it begins,” Virgil mutters as the twins erupt into a verbal fight. Turning to face Logan, he says, “Run while you still can.”

“Virgil, no!” Patton says as he briskly transfers seats to sit beside Logan. “They’re always like this, it’s okay. What brings you to our table, Bespectacled Buddy?”

“Remus brought me to the table. Literally,” Logan replies, adjusting his glasses. “I am hoping my presence will convince him to be my partner for a science paper.”

“Really?” Virgil quirks a brow. “Remus?”

“I find his ideas very interesting.”

Patton and Virgil share a look. Then, Patton smiles warmly as he places a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “You know, Logan, I think you’ll fit right in. I’ll be _Logan_ forward to seeing you on movie night this weekend!”

Virgil groans. “That was horrible, Pat. But A for effort.”

Logan eyes them all before he finally takes out his packed lunch from his bag. He has yet to decide whether approaching Remus that day is the best or most idiotic thing he has ever done in his high school life so far.

Patton Picani takes pride in being childhood friends with the Kings. Having no siblings of his own, it felt like having two brothers who gladly went on playdates at the playground with him and watched cartoons with him on the weekends.

The twins were often the ones in charge, however. They decided which games to play and what movies to watch. Patton hardly minded; he was just happy being there. Having him around was good for Remus and Roman too; Patton always broke ties and mediated between arguments. 

Patton was also there for them when their father died. He held their hands, wiped away their tears, and hugged them until the sadness went away. It was a heavy burden on a then-10-year-old kid, but he loved the twins as though they were his own flesh-and-blood. If anyone asked, he would do anything to keep them happy.

It became a huge blow on him when they momentarily stopped hanging out the way they used to; Roman started taking theater seriously in middle school while Remus busied himself with weird random hobbies that made him hard to get a hold of. Suddenly, Patton was all alone again.

It was around that time when Patton met Virgil Rivers. It was the strangest interaction he had ever had with anyone, and it still holds true today. Patton had gone to sit at the benches at the back of the campus to eat his lunch in peace when he found Virgil seated on the grass with a pickle jar and a rag doll made from scrap pieces of fabric.

Patton watched Virgil drop the doll inside the jar that he sealed tightly before shaking it vigorously in anger.

Being the nosy kid Patton was, he asked, “What are you doing?”

Virgil yelped in alarm and stared at Patton with wild eyes. Then, quietly, he answered, “Voodoo.”

“Why?”

“Corbin made fun of Sloane at Phys Ed,” he said. “He was mean. It’s not Sloane’s fault he’s got weak bones. So I’m trying to hex him.”

Patton blinked. “That doesn’t sound like a good thing to do.”

Virgil shrugs. “It’s fun though. Wanna try shaking?”

Patton had politely declined, but he did start hanging out with Virgil that day onward. Eventually, Virgil became his best friend and it initially filled him with guilt that it seemed as though he was replacing the twins with someone new. And so he gathered them at a cafeteria table one day and decided that they would all have lunch together again.

It was Roman who didn’t seem too keen on having Virgil at the table. They clashed the moment they met and were often at odds in a way that was different from how he’d argue with Remus. But when Patton admitted that Virgil had helped him feel less lonely when both twins were busy doing whatever else, Roman relented and apologized for having made Patton that sad in the first place.

Patton then made the promise that if there was ever a time when Roman and Remus would each make a new best friend, they would be welcome to join their group. “It’s only fair,” he had said.

Patton kept that promise when Roman brought Janus one day to their table, even though it was now _him_ who clashed with Janus often.

And now, Patton is keeping his promise as Remus drags Logan to their group, even though it was probably against Logan’s will. 

Patton takes pride in being the Kings’ oldest friend, which means he is highly protective of them and would do anything to keep them happy. Fortunately, Patton is also a good judge of people’s character and he can tell that the new addition only has the best intentions towards Remus. Logan’s words proved it: he found Remus’s ideas unique and creative instead of merely dismissing them as demented and worthless. Patton knows that’s the only thing that matters to Remus—to be taken seriously. And Patton is happy that Logan is capable of doing just that.

Patton counts them off in his head. Six people. Five friends he can call his own. Five brothers he can love. This little group is getting bigger and bigger, and he believes this year is about to be the best one yet.


	3. The One Who Fights, The One Who Waits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet Janus and Virgil, and the secrets they keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said that I'd make each chapter title a song from a Musical, but it was too hard so I gave up lol nonetheless, enjoy this new chapter featuring the snake and the spider

“It’s Friday, bitches!” Remus hollers, ungracefully landing on the bench of their lunch table after attempting to slide across the floor.

Logan once again shows up, giving everyone a curt nod before taking a seat next to Patton.

“Finally,” Roman sings, “our monthly weekend movie marathon!” He points at Logan. “You better get ready for this, Specs!”

“Oh, is there anything I need to get ready for?” Logan asks.

“Each one of us brings a movie to watch,” Patton informs him. “Anything you want, and no one gets to complain!”

“Well, I’m more than ready to scare you all out of your pants with mine,” Virgil says with an evil grin.

“If anyone is scaring everyone else, that would be me!” Remus cackles.

“Didn’t we decide to ban you after you made us watch ‘A Serbian Film’?” Roman tells him with a look of suspicion.

“Oh god,” Patton whispers, shuddering at the memory. Remus pouts. “We didn’t even finish it.”

“And it’s half an hour of my life that I’ll never get back,” Virgil mutters.

“Interesting,” Logan says. “Is it a film about the undiscovered wonders of Serbia?”

“Why, yes, let’s watch it together when you have the time, Lo-Lo,” Remus answers with an innocent tone.

“Jesus Christ Superstar,” Roman mutters under his breath.

“This is going to be one long marathon now that we’re six people,” Virgil drawls out as he takes a bite out of his sub sandwich.

Logan eyes them all and squints. “Six people?”

“Oh, you haven’t met Janus,” Patton tells him. “He avoids the cafeteria like a plague. He doesn’t usually come to eat lunch with us.”

“Prissy little bitch,” Roman says with a shrug.

Logan opens his mouth to say something but decides against it. Instead, he asks, “Where is this movie marathon taking place?”

“Our house!” The twins say in unison.

“Bet you never had a sleepover before, Microsoft Nerd,” Remus teases which makes Logan blush.

“Chill out, nothing’s going to happen there that will kill you,” Virgil tells him.

“That hardly seems reassuring,” Logan says.

“I’ll bring the snacks!” Patton chirps. “Any allergies I should know about?” Logan shakes his head.

“I’ll help,” Virgil says, “Just to make sure you don’t go cuckoo on the cookies again.”

This makes Patton laugh. “That was as close to a pun as I’ll ever get from you, Virge! You deserve a _Patton_ the back for that one!”

Logan blinks. “Was that—was that a self-referential pun?”

“Yup! Glad you weren’t _slow_ -gan on the uptake there!”

He sighs. For the 35th time, he wonders if it isn’t too late to escape this group.

There aren’t a lot of things that can irritate Janus Dean.

That’s a lie. Many things irritate him; he just doesn’t show it.

Case in point: Janus has just learned that the play he had just auditioned for has suddenly been disapproved by the Principal for the sole reason of it being too risqué for the student population.

You put one bed scene in the script and suddenly it’s banned. As if their play would ignite a school-wide orgy. Who’s the Principal to assume that the school already _hasn’t_?

In any case, the theater club is currently play-less until a new script passes the Principal’s Rated PG standards. Janus, however, has other plans up his sleeve.

He makes his way down the hall to find Roman by his locker. When he does, Janus also finds the second thing that will irritate him that afternoon: seeing Roman being bumped on purpose by a Senior.

“Rude!” Roman yelps, rubbing his shoulder.

The Senior turns around with a grim look. “What did you say to me, you geek?”

He doesn’t give Roman a chance to reply as he grabs him by the collar.

Janus strides towards them with an amused expression. “Oh my goodness, Roman, you’re really going to give this brute the satisfaction of smashing your face?”

“You got a problem, Frankenstein?” The Senior says with a sneer.

“Of course,” Janus replies, folding his arms over his chest. “I find it amusing that you’re still taking cues from high school tropes that have wired our generation into thinking that an unnecessary display of barbarity can fill you with a sense of fulfillment when, in fact, you’re just desperate for attention.”

The Senior blinks. “What—”

“And in a campus that’s strongly advocated for equality and acceptance, were you really about to land a punch on an openly gay student?” Janus audibly gasps before raising his voice to catch the hallway’s attention. “Homophobic violence in _our_ school? Are we just going to tolerate this?”

Students begin to shout in protest as the bewildered Senior loosens his grip on Roman’s shirt, enough for Roman to push himself off and stand beside Janus.

The Senior grunts and hurriedly walks away, and Janus sighs in relief.

“You always have the best timing,” Roman tells him with a sheepish grin as he fixes his hair.

“Can’t have the star of our show get a broken nose,” he answers dismissively. “I will _not_ take over such a bland role of the heroic protagonist you insist on claiming every year.”

Roman’s face lights up. “Are the results out?”

“Worse. We have no play. Elliott is working on a new one, but I have a plan.”

Roman squints his eyes. “Wait, what?”

Janus rolls his eyes. “Just come with me.”

On their way to their clubroom, Janus fills Roman in on the issue at hand. (“Well, that’s stupid! If anything, the play will only lead to sexual _re_ -awakening!”) He also neglects to share his plan until they arrive, heading straight towards a figure tapping away in distress on their laptop.

Roman swoops in and throws an arm around the student’s shoulder. “Elliott, our poor playwright, I heard the terrible news!”

“We’ve depicted death, drugs, and psychosis in our plays, and yet it’s sex where they draw the line,” Elliott seethes.

Janus kneels in front of them. “We cannot just give them the satisfaction.”

“They’re already expecting a revised script by Monday,” Seth, the play director, says as he approaches them. “There’s not much we can do about it at this point.”

“Seth is right,” Roman sighs. “What sort of plan did you have in mind anyway?”

“Simple,” Janus hisses with a sly smirk. “We keep the scene.”

He holds his finger up to cut off their retorts. “We only pretend to take it out. We revise our script in a way that it sounds absolutely wholesome on paper when, in fact, it’s actually narrating something obscene. And we’ll craft the words so that the Principal won’t ever notice until the staging of the play.” He clasps his hands in menacing glee. “And when he retaliates, he has no argument against us because the evidence would be clear that he _approved_ it.”

“Wait, wait,” Elliott says. “So like, narrating a sex scene without using obvious words.”

“You mean like ‘baseball bat’ and ‘milkshake’?” Roman laughs. “The Principal can’t be _that_ stupid, right?”

Janus glares at him. “If it’s written right, it’ll all go over his head.”

Elliott purses their lips. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

“Are you _not_ angry that he’s basically controlling his students’ creativity for the sole purpose of looking good?” Janus replies testily. “This play will be a big ‘Fuck You’ to those adults who continue to make us feel that we don’t know what we’re doing.”

“Hey,” Seth puts up his hands as he shrugs, “I’m all for it. They shouldn’t have a say on what we create.” He gives Elliott a reassuring smile. “If Elliott finds a way to make it work, then it’s fine by me. _But_ , you don’t have to if you can’t.”

Janus eyes the three persons in front of him. This is the third thing that irritates him: witnessing their wishy-washiness despite knowing in their hearts what they truly wanted to do, burdened by the heavy weight of their morality. Janus has always fought back bravely against injustices and vocally expressed his contempt for people who made excuses for them despite being capable of making a difference.

But Janus isn’t a pusher; he ignites a fire and allows it to spread on its own. He looks for blood in the water and summons the sharks to get what he wants without getting his hands dirty. And so he says, “You can either bend over backward to do as the Principal pleases, or you fight for your hard work. The choice is yours, Elliott.”

Elliott sighs. “Well, when you put it that way...”

Bingo. Janus stands and smoothens out his black top. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“And I’ll be looking forward to starring in it!” Roman heralds, jumping to his feet as well.

Seth chuckles. “You haven’t gotten the part yet, Princey.”

“But I _will_ ,” he tuts, before waving goodbye and running after Janus who had already turned on his heel to leave the room.

“You’re quite a wily snake, aren’t you?” Roman tells him as soon as he catches up.

“What _ever_ do you mean?” Janus purrs, waving a hand dismissively.

“I wonder, what would you do if someone ends up foiling your evil plan someday?”

“Well, you best hope that it won’t be you.”

Of all things that could irritate Janus, it’s the thought of being foiled by the one person who believed in him the most that would ultimately break him.

Virgil Rivers had always been the awkward kid. He didn’t like to stand out from the crowd and chose to go with the flow. When he did things he liked, he did them in secret—away from prying eyes that would take advantage of him when he was at his most vulnerable state.

He never openly shared things about himself to people. He’d let them discover it on their own terms. And when they’d question him why he never told them about it, he’d always say “You never asked.”

He protects himself that way to some extent. He would hate to bring attention to himself and be hurt or disappointed when the people he bares his soul to are less than enthusiastic about it. So he blends into the background, merely observing the people around him, casting a shadow onto himself so that no one would notice him for what he truly is—a misfit, a wallflower, a spectator to a show he wasn’t the main character of.

It’s the primary reason why he and Roman didn’t get along at first. Roman is a people person, which apparently means that he loves sticking his nose in other people’s business. He asked far too many questions, hit one too many nerves, and reveled in seeing how he got under Virgil’s skin. And Virgil was ruthless; he never gave Roman the satisfaction of getting to know him from his own mouth.

Virgil never let anyone know the real him. No one, except Patton.

There is comfort in being with Patton that Virgil grew to appreciate. Patton never pried but he never showed apathy either. Rather, he understood; Virgil has no idea how but Patton always understood. When Virgil is silent, Patton just smiles and enjoys the silence with him. When Virgil talks, Patton always answers. Patton never coerces Virgil to share what’s on his mind; he just _knows_ and reassures him of things Virgil never realized he needed to hear.

In time, Virgil slowly opened up to Patton. He was starting to feel guilty over how Patton always told him everything—his feelings, his problems, his fears—while he kept his lips shut. Virgil told Patton things about himself that he never thought of sharing to anyone else because he felt that it never mattered, and he relished the feeling of lightness in his chest when he did.

There were still things Patton doesn’t know about Virgil but Virgil is in no rush to reveal them. After all, he knows Patton has become a friend for life and nothing and no one could ever take Patton away from him.

Except for maybe spiders.

“Virgil!” Patton shrieks as Virgil brings over a plastic bag of candy with a huge cartoon tarantula printed on its packaging. “Get that away from me!”

“You have the basket, Pat,” Virgil says flatly.

“No!” Patton whines. “You _know_ I hate creepy crawly death eaters!”

“I also know that _you_ have the basket.” Virgil groans. “Ugh, fine, I’ll just carry it.”

Virgil tucks the offending plastic bag of candy under his arm and peers inside the grocery basket that Patton held. So far, they’ve gotten an assortment of chips, biscuits, and cookies as well as a box of microwavable popcorn, M&Ms, Skittles, gummy bears, and a pack of Jelly Belly for Remus. “I’ll go get the soda.”

“Oh, I’ll go grab some marshmallows,” Patton replies.

Virgil heads to the soda aisle and stares at the shelves. He remembers the first time he volunteered to do this a few years ago during a grocery run with Patton. He had a mini attack then—overwhelmed by the individual requests that he had to remember (Coca-Cola for Roman, Mountain Dew for Remus, Canada Dry Ginger Ale for Janus, Orange Soda for Patton) which would have been easy if not for his then-tiny brain that struggled to process different information at once.

Good thing Virgil remembered then that he had a note taped to the back of his school ID card with the numbers 4-7-8, a breathing technique his older sibling taught him. He managed to calm down before Patton found him.

Virgil’s friends have yet to know that about him, and he’d like to keep it that way.

Fortunately, Virgil is in a good state of mind that evening and he’s already learned everyone’s requests by heart. He picks up a liter each of Mountain Dew, Coke, Sunkist, and Ginger Ale—an impressive feat with just two hands and a plastic bag of candy under his arm—and he wonders just why they all couldn’t agree on just _one_ flavor.

(But Virgil doesn’t complain; he drinks them all anyway.)

He finds Patton happily humming to himself near the cash register waiting for Virgil to come back with the drinks and they hand it all over to the girl working the register.

“I’m not sure if I’m looking forward to a 12-hour marathon tomorrow with all those dumbasses,” Virgil mutters under his breath.

Patton swats his arm as a silent reprimand for cursing. “It’s nice that our group gets bigger every couple of years. And I’m surprised you didn’t have a hard time warming up to Logan!”

Virgil scratches his neck. “He’s pretty chill, I guess. He’s someone I can tolerate. Plus, I find it funny how he looks like he’s constantly questioning what he did to be dragged against his will into our weird circle.”

Patton gasps. “Do you think Logan doesn’t like us?” Virgil shrugs. “We’ll know when he doesn’t run away the next morning.”

They gather their plastic bags (Virgil tearing open the spider candy pack to put a piece in his mouth, chuckling as Patton covers his eyes with his hands as he does so) and they exit the grocery carrying two plastic bags each.

Outside, they meet Patton’s father, Emile Picani, sitting patiently in his car at the parking lot. “All done, kiddos?” he asks when he rolls down the car window to greet them.

“Ready to go, Popstar,” Virgil says, earning an affectionate ruffle of his hair from Emile. The two kids climb onto the bright blue station wagon and Emile shuts off the radio to ask them how their days went.

Patton, of course, talks their ears off and Virgil uses this as an opportunity to let his mind wander. He watches as buildings and strangers zip past outside his window, and gazes upon the purple sky above.

“What about you, Virgil? Do you how do?” 

Virgil wakes from his daydream and clears his throat. “Same way as I’ve always been.”

He sees Emile’s eyes flicker to the rear-view mirror. “Picked up any new hobbies lately?”

“Not particularly.”

Emile chuckles. “That’s perfectly okay! There’s no rush to discover what you like. As Jake the Dog from 'Adventure Time' says, ‘Sucking at something is the first step to becoming sorta good at something.’”

”Duly noted, Doc.” Virgil doesn’t tell him that he already found what he liked doing. It’s another secret he’s yet to tell. But in any case, he appreciates the words of wisdom. He could expect nothing less from their neighborhood’s best, though infamously kooky, therapist.

They arrive at the Picani residence which is just a block away from the Kings. Patton and Virgil bring down their bags of groceries and head straight for the kitchen. Virgil sits on the kitchen counter as Patton excitedly readies the pots and bowls he’ll use to cook their pasta dinner. Patton is usually the one cooking in their house (Emile is never to be trusted near an open flame) and Virgil knows to stay out of his way unless Patton instructs him to do something.

Instead, Virgil opens his Spotify and plays his rock music. He knows it isn’t particularly Patton’s favorite genre, but he appreciates the effort Patton makes to listen to them.

Dinner is served after an hour and is as chaotic as it can be in the Picani household—full of puns, jokes, and cartoon references. To any onlooker, they’d say that it was a caricature of a perfect father-and-son relationship. But Virgil knows it’s far from it. 

But that’s a story for a different time.

When they retire to Patton’s bedroom, they watch a few YouTube videos before crawling into their separate beds—Patton on his own and Virgil on the mattress on the floor that they set up every time Virgil sleeps over.

In the dark, they continue to talk about school, their friends, and random movies they’ve watched or hope to watch soon.

Every now and then, Patton talks about how excited he is for their weekend sleepover with the rest. What he says varies from “I wonder what Logan is like!” and “Will Roman put on a Disney movie or a musical? Or both!” to “Do you think we should have bought more chocolate candies?” and “I wonder if we have time to play Uno at night.”

And every time, Virgil will inform him that they do this every month. But Patton just shushes him and points out that they only ever get together like this during their once-a-month marathons, and that merits the level of excitement he currently has.

Patton has so much love to give, after all, and he would gladly seize every opportunity to give it all to his friends. 

Virgil worries about that sometimes. Virgil always thinks about worst-case scenarios and what-ifs that he finds himself wary of giving oneself completely to other people the way Patton does. “Don’t you ever think about the possibility that one day our schedules won’t match and we’d eventually stop having our movie days?”

Patton laughs. “No way! That won’t ever happen.”

“But it _might_.” Virgil rolls over to look at Patton through the darkness. “What if something happens to one of us that leads to a huge fight and we’ll all be forced to take sides and we all stop talking to one another? It’s not impossible. We’re all so...different, you know?”

Patton is silent for a time until he says with a shaky breath, “Why are you telling me these things?”

Virgil feels guilt bubble inside his chest. “I’m sorry, Pat. I just don’t... Never mind. Forget what I said. I shouldn’t be burdening you with my weird thoughts.”

Patton leans over the edge of his bed. “ _No one_ is going to hurt anyone. I won’t ever let that happen. Not on my watch.”

Virgil sighs. “Okay, Pat. I’ll follow your lead.”

But Virgil would be lying if he said that he doesn’t have a bad feeling about this year.


	4. The Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Logan experiences his first movie marathon weekend.

It’s 8:59 in the morning when Logan steps out of his mother’s car in front of the King’s residence. They had told him the night before in the group chat to which he had just been added to congregate at 9 AM on Saturday. Logan is a stickler for punctuality so, at the exact hour, he rings the doorbell.

This isn’t Logan’s first sleepover contrary to what most people think. He _was_ a kid who had a normal childhood; of course he had sleepovers with friends he eventually grew apart from over the years. But this is the first time in a long time that he is staying over at someone’s place for anything other than academics and it makes him feel like a fish out of water—unsure of the right etiquette and proper conduct at a get-together with boys his age.

He’s sure he’ll figure it out along the way. He didn’t neglect to bring a gift for his hosts at least.

The door swings open and a woman greets him with surprise. “Oh!” she says. “Are you Roman and Remus’s new friend?”

“Logan Evans,” Logan says curtly. “Yes, I was invited over and arrived promptly.”

“That you did,” Valerie laughs as she welcomes Logan into her home. “I’m Valerie. The boys are setting up in the den. Would you like anything to drink?”

“I’m alright, thank you.”

Valerie leads Logan down the stairs and into their den where Roman and Remus are splayed over the large brown U-shaped couch and watching an episode of an unfamiliar show on their flat-screen television.

Valerie calls their attention and Remus jumps off the couch. “Logie! You’re early!”

Logan furrows his brows. “False, I’m right on time.”

Remus shrugs. “Meh.”

“Oh my god, are those bagels?” Roman says eying the box on Logan’s hands.

“Donuts, actually,” he answers. Roman whoops and grabs it, yelling out a thanks before shoving a donut into his mouth.

The doorbell rings again and Valerie leaves to answer it. Remus ushers Logan towards the couch, letting him drop his bags in the corner before plopping down beside his brother to wrestle a donut out of his grasp.

“Rem, I already called dibs!”

“Well, I want it!”

“You can’t have it, you bitch!"

“You’re fucking fat and you need to lay off the donuts anyway!”

“Oh god, they’ve already started and it’s just the morning,” Virgil yawns as he and Patton descend the stairs with the plastic bags of snacks and drinks.

“Hi, Logan!” Patton chirps. Logan nods in reply.

The two fix at all on the coffee table while Roman, sore from having lost his donut to Remus, goes up to fetch a bucket of ice cubes from the kitchen.

When they all settle down, Roman comes back with Janus already in tow. “The stars have arrived!” Roman says as he skips to the front of the couch to place the ice bucket on the table.

Janus does a double-take at Logan and his eyes widen. “Logan?”

Logan gives a tight smile. “Hello, Janus.”

“ _You’re_ the ‘nerd’ that Remus befriended? I’m quite surprised.”

“Believe me, I’m still processing it all as well.”

“Wait,” Roman says, placing his hands on his hips. “You know each other?”

“We were partners for a year in English class in middle school,” Logan replies. “We weren’t really considered _friends_.”

“Neither of us was the friendly type.” Janus folds his arms across his chest. “Though our classmates learned the hard way to never mess with the New Kid and the Nerd.”

“You got that right,” Roman mutters, shuddering at the memory of his first failed audition.

“Pretty sure that’s a story we’ll gladly hear later,” Virgil says, “but come on and let’s get this show on the road.”

“Right!” Roman bellows, clasping his hands together. “It’s time to commence our monthly movie marathon! A round of applause, please!”

Claps echo through the room.

“So, with whom shall we begin?”

“We all know you want to start, Roman.” Janus waves his hand. “Just go ahead.”

“Yes!” Roman excitedly grabs the remote and settles himself down between his twin and Janus. “I’ve been meaning to rewatch this.”

Disney’s _Emperor’s New Groove_ starts which receives murmurs of approval from the rest of the group.

“Kuzco was my sexual awakening,” Roman jokes.

“Are you sure it wasn’t Kronk?” Virgil answers. “Or was he too much like you: a bonehead?”

“My dear Patton, could you kindly hand me that pillow so I could throw it at Tickle-Me-Emo’s head?”

“Behave, you two!”

“Throw an ice cube,” Janus whispers. “He’ll hate that more.” Virgil hisses at him.

“I would _definitely_ fuck Pacha as a Woman,” Remus yells. The group goes silent and stares at him.

“Well,” Logan says first, “this has been an interesting series of events thus far.”

As the credits roll, Patton volunteers his movie next and puts on _It’s Kind of a Funny Story_.

“I enjoyed that book,” Janus says.

Virgil leans forward with wide eyes. “Me too.”

“Well, now I want to read it,” Roman pipes in.

“Aww, someone’s jealous—OW!” Remus yelps, holding the side where Roman just elbowed him.

“Shush!” Patton says. “It’s about to start!”

As soon as the film finishes, Roman gushes over how much he loved it while Remus and Virgil break into song of Queen’s “Under Pressure.”

Lunch comes in the form of boxed pizzas and Janus clears his throat. “I think it’s best if my film of choice is shown long after we’re done eating.”

“Mine too!” Remus shouts.

“I vote to go last, as always,” Virgil adds.

Roman groans. “You three are always putting on the weirdest movies.”

“Well, good thing Logan’s here now to balance it all out!” Patton tells him.

“I hope my chosen movie would be adequate for you all,” Logan says, typing the movie title in the search bar.

“It better not be a documentary,” Roman murmurs.

“Documentaries are cool,” Remus whispers haughtily. “Stop being a dick.”

“I was just kidding!”

Logan clicks “play” on _Stranger Than Fiction_ and a hush settles over them.

It takes a while before the group fully moves on from what they just watched, debating over what they’d do if they happened to find themselves having the same dilemma as Emma Thompson’s character of choosing between publishing a sure best-seller or an innocent’s life.

“There’s only one answer here!” Patton cries.

“To watch all your hard work get flushed down the drain in exchange for a life,” Janus muses. “What an amazing predicament.”

“Okay, but if I found out that my life was actually controlled by someone, I would just rather duck out,” Virgil murmurs.

“Who’s to say it already isn’t?” Remus smirks as he watches Virgil throw his jacket hood over his head in existential dread.

“He gave her _flours_ ,” Roman whispers as he clutched his chest, clearly unable to move on from that one scene.

“I am pleased that you enjoyed this movie as I did,” Logan says, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Who will be going next?”

“I will.” Janus picks up the remote and searches for _Okja_ on Netflix.

“Some might think _Okja_ was too elaborate an effort to forward yet another anti-meat agenda. To a certain extent, it was — but it was admittedly an effective one,” Janus says animatedly as the credits roll. “It didn’t need to burn traumatic imagery into the minds of the audience, nor did it attempt to romanticize the issue. And that’s why the film _worked_.”

“Here we go,” Roman mutters under his breath with a roll of his eyes.

“Deep within us, we’re aware of what goes on with our food before it’s served to us on a plate. But we choose to stay ignorant of the abusive practices, grimy living conditions, and unethical slaughters that most animals experience because, as Tilda Swinton’s character declares, ‘they taste fucking good,’” Janus leans back with a sigh. “And this is why I don’t eat meat.”

“Was all this just to push your agenda?” Virgil groans.

Janus smirks. “Oh sweetheart, of _course_ not.”

“How can a movie be so happy and so sad at the same time?” Patton pouts.

“My turn, my turn!” Remus yells, jumping up to grab the remote. “Go on your restroom break, bitches. Shit’s about to go _down_ from here!”

“Pennies in the swear jar, Remus!” Patton scolds.

“Sorry daddy!”

“ _Please_ tell me you picked something that won’t traumatize us,” Roman begs.

Remus laughs. “No promises!”

 _Shaun of the Dead_ starts playing.

“Did-did Remus just pick a _good_ movie?” Roman stammers.

“Thank god,” Janus sighs.

Logan nods. “There was too much blood for my taste but that was hilarious indeed.”

“That was the best zombie film I’ve ever watched!” Patton pauses. “Not that I’ve watched any other zombie film...”

Virgil gives Remus a high five. “Fucking A, man.”

“Thanks Virgie,” Remus giggles. “You’re up next!”

“And just about time too. Kill all the lights, Lo.”

Logan, who is nearest the lights switch, flicks them all off as Virgil readies his movie. When Patton sees the full title, he squeaks. “ _No!”_

“Well, this is going to be fun,” Janus says with a quirk of his brow.

“How scary is this?” Roman asks him.

“From what I’ve heard, _not_ terrifying at all.”

“Ooh, I’m creaming my pants in excitement!” Remus says, bouncing on the couch.

Virgil shushes them. Then, he hits play on _The Witch_.

_It’s just a movie. It’s all fictional. Nothing about this is real._ Logan feels sweat form on his brow as he spends every ounce of energy in his body to stay calm.

Another true thing about Logan is he’s deeply unsettled by horror films on account of the fact that they weren’t bound by logic. There’s no rhyme to a young boy suddenly expelling a bloody apple from his mouth; no reason to a woman not noticing that a crow was pecking at her bare breast. He tries to distract himself from the unnerving things that were unfolding in the movie by observing his companions instead.

He sees Patton hiding half of his face behind a pillow and squeezing himself close to Virgil’s side. Virgil and Remus, on the other hand, are so deeply engrossed in the movie that their mouths hung wide open, awaiting what comes next. Roman is clutching onto his own pillow and biting his fingers in dread while Janus hides the evident trembling of his hands by folding and unfolding his arms frequently across his chest.

When a jump scare pops up on the screen which Logan fortunately misses, he sees the tableau break: Roman screeches at a high pitch, Janus curses loudly and shields his eyes with his arms, Patton sobs into his pillow, Virgil looks away and winces in disgust, and Remus cackles with maniacal glee.

Rattled, Logan stands up and excuses himself to head to the restroom.

“No fair!” Patton protests.

“Newcomer gets a pass!” Remus answers, and Logan swiftly leaves the room and into the comfort of the King’s dining area.

He waits for his jagged breath to still before heading towards the kitchen to pour himself a cold glass of water. The twins’ mother is also there, preparing dinner.

“Having fun?” She teases.

Logan gives a polite smile. “Do you require assistance?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I love cooking for RoRo and Remmy’s friends.” She glances at him. “What’s your favorite food, Logan?”

Logan gives it a thought. “I don’t have any preferences.”

Valerie winks. “I see, it’s still a secret. I’ll find out soon enough.”

Logan’s face flushes as he stammers, “I wasn’t intending to withhold information.”

“I know,” Valerie giggles. “But I’m a sleuth. I’ll figure you out soon, Logan. Just like…oh, just like Sherlock!”

Logan raises his brows at that. They stand there looking at each other for a few seconds before distant yells of fear break Logan out of his stunned reverie. “I must be going back. I’ll be looking forward to dinner, Mrs. King.”

He ambles his way back down where he sees them all huddled much closer together than before. He takes his seat as Janus scoots himself near Logan. “Doing okay?”

Logan nods. “I like their mom.”

Janus chuckles. “She’s got us all under her spell.”

The film ends and everyone heaves a sigh of relief.

“I’ve lost my appetite,” Patton whines.

“I’m going to have nightmares tonight,” Virgil nods in agreement. 

“Why’d you pick a horror film then?!” Roman cries. Virgil merely shrugs.

“That got me hungry,” Remus says. “Dinnertime, dweebs!”

Janus squints at him. “Does _nothing_ unnerve you?”

“Meh. I’ve seen far worse. I mean, have you seen ‘A Serbian Film’?”

“Okay, I’m out!” Roman cuts Remus off as he pushes himself off the couch and towards the stairs. The rest follow suit and they are immediately greeted with an abundant dinner spread on their table—roast chicken, pasta, mashed potatoes, and fish salad.

“Valerie Mendez-King does it again!” Remus exclaims.

Valerie ruffles the hair of her sons when they take their seats and says, “Only the best for my best boys and their best friends. Eat up! If you need me, I’ll be in the living room watching my _telenovelas_.”

“You spoil us too much,” Janus tells her affectionately.

She blows a kiss before exiting the room.

The ruckus of dinner is subdued compared to that of their usual lunchtimes at school, Logan observes. Patton happily helps divide the portions among them all while Virgil silently takes photos on his phone. Remus expertly carves out the roast chicken, and Roman and Janus converse in hushed tones. It is like watching a scene of a movie that Logan has inserted himself into, neither absent or really there, uncertain of where he fits amidst it all. It is only when his plate is filled with an assortment of food and Remus turns towards him to say, “Did you know that a Banana Slug’s penis can be as long as its body _and_ grow out of its head?” and he answers, “Yes, and after mating they will often chew the other’s phallus off,” that he realizes that, maybe, he could let himself care about maintaining this friendship just this once.


	5. A Bad Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Logan unintentionally makes things tense with a question and Virgil has a rough morning

The sleepover is going well so far much to Patton’s delight. Logan is adapting quicker than he first thought, engaging in conversations with Remus and Janus the entire time at the dinner table.

Seeing as he has yet to engage in casual conversation one-on-one with Logan, he settles next to him on the couch. “Hi Logan! You picked a Will Ferrell-y cool movie today. Get it?”

Logan sighs. “Affirmative, Patton. I’ve gathered that you tend to make puns often.”

Patton giggles. “Don’t worry, you’re Lo-gonna get used to it, Evans if it kills ya!”

“Oof,” Virgil mutters as he drops himself onto the couch by Logan’s other side. “Double Dad joke. Still isn’t too late to run now, L.”

“Why would I run at this hour?”

“What are we gossiping about?” Remus interjects, crawling towards them from the other end of the room. “Or are we trying to squeeze out some weird, dark secrets from Nerdy Wolverine?”

“Actually,” Logan says, clearing his throat, “I would be appreciative if I learned more about you all.”

“Oh, _he’s_ the one who wants to squeeze out our dark secrets.”

“What is this about dark secrets?” Roman says entering the room with Janus after having changed into their pajamas.

“Logie wants to squeeze us out.”

Janus wrinkles his nose. “Please don’t say that without context.”

“I just said that I wanted to learn more about you all,” Logan tells him.

“Like a group 20 Questions thing?” Roman jokes.

“You could tell me how you all met. Or your family life, anything,” Logan offers.

Patton feels himself stiffen at the word “family” and doesn’t notice when the others do as well. The quick tension isn’t lost on Logan, however, who quirks both eyebrows.

Patton breaks the silence as he giggles nervously. “Well, Roman, Remus, and I are childhood buddies! I live just down the street and we played together at the park all the time. And then Virgil and I became best friends in middle school, and Janus—”

“I made Roman cry during my first theater audition,” Janus said flatly.

Roman reddens. “You did not!”

“You hated my guts and went out of your way to make me feel it.”

Remus laughs. “It’s true, Roman threw a _lot_ of tantrums that year.”

“That’s all in the paaast!” Roman dramatically sprawls himself on the back of the couch, staring up at Janus with the best puppy dog eyes he could put on. “We’re like Galinda and Elphaba! ‘ _Because I knew you, I have been changed for good!’_ ”

Janus quirks his lips. “Okay, even you have to admit that _that_ was a little pitchy.”

“I don’t like you!”

Remus rolls his eyes and turns towards Logan. “And _that_ is how I became their permanent third wheel.”

Somehow Logan understands the idiom. “I see. I didn’t think they were a couple.”

“They’re not. Just a figure of speech.”

“Oh.”

Patton eyes Logan warily as he feels Virgil’s shoulders start to relax. When Logan turns his head to meet his eyes, Patton instantly smiles and says, “Anyone up to play Uno?”

Murmurs of affirmation resound throughout the room and Patton hops off to get his bag. And if Logan noticed the sudden shift of mood, he doesn’t make it known.

He doesn’t ask any more questions that night.

It’s almost 1 AM when they finish three chaotic rounds of Uno and a quick game of Poker (which had just been Janus flexing his skills). It is only when Logan suddenly breaks out the loudest yawn they ever heard from him that they decide to call it a night. Remus offers Logan the mattress on the floor (“It’s your first sleepover, take it. Just don’t mind the chip crumbs and possible ants.”) while he, Patton, and Virgil settle their blankets and pillows on the large couch. Roman and Janus take the larger mattress—Roman’s own—and continue their quiet bickering from having sabotaged each other while playing (“Three Draw 4’s, really? You should be sleeping on the floor for such utter betrayal!” “Oh, stop being such a Drama King.”)

Virgil slaps on his sleeping mask, lazily says good night, and falls asleep as soon as he buries himself under the sheets. Patton waits until everyone has tucked themselves in before he does the same, whispering a soft good night.

Only Remus stays up for a bit longer than the rest. He is used to sleeping at odd hours; sometimes, he doesn’t sleep at all. He thinks about how the day went, about the movies, and about Logan’s question regarding the one unspoken rule of the group.

It isn’t like Remus knows about the rest of them. He just assumed that each of them are going through the same shit in different iterations. Teenage puberty, you know? If he is being honest, he’d say none of them has it worse than him—a kid with a dead father and a twin brother who pretends it never happened.

Remus violently shakes his head in an attempt to stop himself from spiraling into a vortex of self-loathing and anger, and lets the sounds of snoring lull him to sleep.

Obviously, Remus doesn’t know.

Roman doesn’t either.

Patton knows about the twins, of course, but not how the trauma continues to haunt them both to this day. Patton also knows about Virgil, but only a little bit—whatever Virgil had been brave enough to share. The same way goes with Virgil about Patton.

Logan knows nothing but hopes he would someday.

Janus likewise knows nothing, but never once cared to. He has always been an open book. At least, that’s what he has made them all think. On the contrary, his family life stands to be the biggest mystery among them all—but no one has ever considered to question it.

As it stands, none of the six boys, five of whom have considered each other the best of friends, know each other at all.

In the next few months, they will come to know.

Virgil wakes the next morning feeling much antsier than usual. An ominous chill runs down his spine the moment his eyes flutter open and is greeted by darkness. It takes a second for him to remember that he has his sleeping mask on.

He pushes up the mask and sits up, glancing around the room. Only Janus and Patton’s nests are empty, Roman and Remus are still asleep and taking as much space in their respective beds as their limbs could cover, while Logan is snoring softly in the far corner of the room.

For some unexplainable reason, Virgil feels dread. He has always felt this sinking feeling in his stomach the morning after a fun night with friends, as though regretful that it’s about to come to an end, but there’s something about this weight that seems different—like a disquieting omen about some uncontrollable uncertainty that’s about to come.

He feels his fingers shake and his breathing quicken. He bites the edges of his nails, remembering the breathing pattern and grounding techniques and whatever else he’s been taught to get a hold of himself during these situations.

In most cases when Virgil thinks about the possibility of things going wrong, it rarely happens. But it never stops him from worrying about the next time. The thing is, Virgil always _knows_ what he worries about. But right now, he’s dreading something that he cannot explain, that he cannot grasp. And it’s increasingly making him panic with every second that passes.

He pulls the ends of his hair, bites every nail on his fingertips, and stares intensely at the bucket of melted ice, as he worries about pulling all his hair out, about his fingers bleeding, about the water pooling underneath the bucket leaving a stain on the table, and about having to choose between asking help from an idiot who would probably gawk at him and do nothing, or the crackbrained twin who’ll probably make his panic attack much, much worse.

Not like it already isn’t.

Virgil screws his eyes shut. _Please don’t see me like this. Please don’t see me like this._

“Virgil?”

Virgil jumps violently at the sound and gapes at Logan who is standing in front of him with a look of concern. Logan sits next to him and says, “Breathe for four seconds.”

Virgil does as told.

“Hold for seven. Now, out for eight.”

Virgil slumps his shoulders, feeling slightly better. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“What happened?”

He shrugs. “Just happens.” A pause. “Could you...not tell anyone about this? Especially Patton.”

Logan pats his shoulder. “If that’s what you think is best. Would you like to go upstairs? I presume you would want a glass of water.”

Virgil lets Logan pull him off the couch and lead him towards the staircase where they will find both Patton and Janus cooking pancakes with _Steven Universe_ songs playing softly from Patton’s phone on the kitchen counter.

Virgil sits quietly at the dining table as Logan approaches Patton. “Do you require assistance?”

“Oh, good morning you two!” Patton greets warmly. “It’s okay, Lo-Lo, Janus and I got it covered. Could you brew some coffee for Virgil, though?”

Logan glances at the coffee maker. “Ah, we have the same one at home. I’ll brew a few cups extra.”

Virgil leans his chin on the table and watches his three friends move about in their own stations—Patton cutting up bananas by the sink, Janus keeping watch on the pancakes with a spatula on hand, and Logan scooping up beans from the coffee tin and pouring them into the grinder.

It’s a scene he’s familiar with, and yet the familiarity does nothing for his nerves. If anything, the weight pulls him further down. He feels as if this is the last time to witness this kind of peace.

Or maybe it’s because the twins aren’t up yet.

Virgil bites his thumb and forces himself to relax. _Stop overthinking things_ , he tells himself. Fortunately, the bean grinder starts and the cacophony drowns out the noise inside his mind.

“Should I wake the two up?” Logan asks.

“Good luck with that,” Janus snorts.

Patton laughs. “Let us know how it goes.”

Logan raises his brows and heads back downstairs. It takes five minutes before he comes back up. “They won’t budge, apparently.”

Virgil finds it in himself to speak for the first time that morning. “They never do.”

“It’s fine. I’ll wake them up after the pancakes are done,” Janus says, flipping another finished pancake onto the stack beside him.

Patton pours two mugs of coffee and brings one over to Virgil at the table before handing the other to Logan, who mutters a thanks.

“Where do they keep the spreads again?” Patton ponders as he inspects the cupboards. “Ah, found it!”

He brings out a few jars and—

Janus drops the spatula, Patton yelps, and Virgil spits out his coffee, all in surprise at Logan who suddenly gasps so loud that one would think he’s taking in his last breath.

“Is—is that Crofter’s Organic Blueberry Blast?” he gapes, adjusting his glasses.

Patton looks down at his hand. “Uh, yes?”

Logan clears his throat and smoothens his shirt. “Please excuse me. That jam has been out of stock at Whole Foods for a few weeks now.”

“Well, I’m sure the Kings won’t mind you helping yourself!” Patton says, handing over the jar of jelly to Logan who cradles it on his palms.

Janus, after composing himself, hands over the spatula to Patton. “Finish the rest, Patton. I’ll wake the Sleeping Beauties.”

“Don’t yank Roman’s hair too hard.”

“No promises, doll.”

Janus heads down and Virgil actually counts the seconds before he hears two succeeding pained yelps. Janus returns with the twins in tow, Roman rubbing his sore head and Remus rubbing his aching butt.

“Who’s ready for some Jan-ana Patton-cakes?” Patton says excitedly, presenting two big plates with a flourish.

“Oh yes!” Roman beams. “I am absolutely famished!”

“Jan’s bananas and Patton’s cake?” Remus wriggles his brows. “If you insist!”

Virgil flicks Remus’s forehead and watches them all settle down at the table, passing around plates, and chopped fruits, and syrups, and jars of jams (except for the Crofter’s, which Logan has kept his firm grip on since he got a hold of it).

It’s familiar. It’s comforting. It’s happy. For some reason, Virgil takes it all in. He doesn’t understand why, but he doesn’t think he’ll see this scene for a long while. The question he asked Patton the night before echoes in his head: _“What if something happens...?”_ He recalls that very same feeling of dread he felt that night, too. He glances at Patton and sighs with guilt. If Virgil ever ends up manifesting the worst-case scenario that persists in his mind, he wouldn’t have meant to. But he mentally says a heartfelt apology anyway, sends a quick text, and quietly eats his breakfast, making sure not to forget to take a few pictures on his phone.

It is 10:04 when Logan is picked up by both his parents and Roman asks both Patton and Virgil if they’d want him to drop them off at their houses, which they both oblige to.

Remus waves goodbye at the door, yawning, as Roman drives off with the rest of the group in tow. It only takes a few minutes before they reach Patton’s house, and he tells them to take care as he alights with his overnight duffel bag.

Virgil sinks down on his seat at the back as they drive away, eyes staring out the window as Roman starts playing the soft melodies of a musical Virgil has never heard of.

Well, Virgil isn’t one to listen to musicals anyway. But he finds himself comforted by the voices of his two friends in the front seats singing along to the melodic tune.

“You okay, Dr. Gloom?” Roman asks, glancing behind.

“Don’t worry, Virge, we’re _totally_ safe with Roman’s _expert_ driving skills,” Janus says teasingly.

This, however, goes over Roman’s head.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m an _expert_ at driving my chariot,” Roman says with his chest puffed out, feigning humility.

Janus raises a brow as they ungracefully hit a bump.

“Oh, honey, you _definitely_ are.”

Virgil resists the urge to slap his forehead in disbelief.

After a while, Roman pulls up in front of Virgil’s home where a person in sunglasses and a mug of coffee and a lit cigarette in both hands sit waiting with an amused grin on the front porch.

“Hey babes!” the person calls, waving a hand.

“Jesus, Remy,” Virgil mutters as he alights the car with his backpack. “Thanks for the ride, Princey.”

“Roman!” Remy says as they approach the car. “Looking perf as always!”

“Why, thank you!” Roman answers with the same pep in his voice. “I could say the same about you!”

“Oh, babes, I know.” Remy chuckles. They bend forward, craning a neck to look at Janus at the passenger seat. “And hello to the nicest snack in this car.” They tilt their sunglasses down to wink at Janus who gives him an eyebrow raise.

“Fucking hell, Remy, we’re 16,” Virgil seethes, yanking Remy’s arm away from the car.

“Ugh, will you, like, chillax? I was complimenting them not _flirting_ with them!” Remy takes a drag of their cigarette and blows out the smoke, flipping Virgil off with their other hand. “Anyway, thanks for bringing little V home, babes. Take care!”

Remy and Virgil watch Roman drive off before going inside their home, straight to Remy’s room. Remy locks the door behind them as Virgil drops his bag and then himself on the beanbag on the floor.

“How bad was it?” Remy asks, taking off their glasses.

“ _Bad_. Like couldn’t-breathe bad,” Virgil mutters, pulling the ends of his sleeves downwards.

“What were you thinking about when it happened?”

“It’s like this...heavy, sinking feeling that something bad is about to happen and it’s going to fuck everything up. And I don’t know what made me think that way. I mean, I guess I may have been worrying about it for a while, but not to _that_ extent. I—I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Okay.” Remy places a comforting hand on Virgil’s knee. “Breathe, babes. Here.” They hand Virgil a tiny bottle. “Just two drops, alright?”

Virgil watches Remy take out their phone and tap away. “I’m ordering lunch. Is Chinese good?”

Virgil shrugs. He throws his head back and squeezes two drops underneath his tongue and closes his eyes to feel a wave of relief wash over him steadily, pulling him back to the shore.

He opens his eyes to find Remy watching him closely.

“So, how was the sleepover?” They ask.

Virgil takes a second. “Best weekend ever.”


	6. Insecurities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we witness some shenanigans between Remus and Roman

“Remus,” Logan begins, “would you like to be partners—”

“Jesus in a buttcrack, Lo, I’m pretty sure we’ve established that,” Remus says as he scoots over on his seat to make space for Logan at their table in Science class.

He could already feel eyes from different people boring into the back of his skull with incredulity and suspicion, wondering just how he was able to have the most in-demand student in class choose to sit beside him, the school weirdo.

Somehow, it fills him with amusement.

They are tasked with planning an experiment for the next couple of months. They are told that their grade will not depend on the experiment’s success or failure, which means that they are all given free rein to pursue even the wildest ideas provided that they are safe and legal.

And thinking of wild ideas is exactly up Remus’s alley so, really, who between him and Logan should people be jealous of?

“What are your thoughts?” Logan asks him, clicking a pen to scribble on his open notebook.

“Let’s bring back the dead,” Remus finds himself saying. Logan blinks at him and Remus thinks he’ll tell him to be serious, the way everyone else has been telling him his whole life, or that it’s impossible, yet another thing he’s used to hearing when it came to his brand of creativity.

But Logan says, “I doubt humankind is prepared for a zombie apocalypse at this moment. Anything else?”

Remus falters. Logan doesn’t shut it down nor does he react negativity to it. For a second, Remus feels free to say what he wants without fear nor inhibition. So, he tries again.

“What if we clone a human being?”

Logan hums. “Interesting. But scientists have been doing everything to pursue this; do we have the resources to do it ourselves?”

“Well, what do you need to build a human?” Remus taps his chin.

“Err,” Logan stammers, “unprotected sexual intercourse?”

Remus slaps his forehead. “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

Logan brightens at the nickname. He coughs, hiding the red on his cheeks.

Remus twirls his own pen on his fingers, failing to notice Logan’s change in demeanor. “I meant like what is a human composed of?”

“Water? Roughly 60% of our body is composed of water,” Logan says. “And cells.”

“Uh-huh.” Remus starts picking his nose with his pen.

“Female humans have eggs.”

Remus sputters with laughter. Logan raises a brow. “What?”

“Nothing, you said eggs.”

“Are eggs supposed to be hilarious?”

Remus composes himself, flicking away a tear from the corner of his eye. “I like eggs. Hey, do you ever stop to think about how we might actually be eating the unborn fetuses of chickens when we eat eggs?”

Logan adjusts his glasses. “Well, that’s only when a rooster has been involved that leads a chicken to lay a fertilized egg. But it’s true that fertilized eggs can end up being sold for consumption together with the unfertilized ones. Fortunately, it poses no danger to us.”

Remus starts doodling a picture of a baby chick on his notebook as he muses, “I’d feel bad if I found out I was eating a dead baby. You think a chick can still live if it’s already cracked from its shell?”

“Well, I—” Logan freezes.

Remus pokes his cheek. “Uh-oh, did I break your brain?”

“Our experiment,” Logan says. “We should do that.”

Remus backpedals. “Wait, what?”

Logan clicks his pen and jots down his thoughts rapidly. “It _would_ be interesting to discover if it is possible to grow a chick outside of its shell. I will do preliminary research. Would you be able to source fertilized eggs anytime soon?”

“Yeah, let me just take a trip to my family farm in my backyard,” Remus deadpans. “Give me at least the weekend, Pocket Protector. Are we seriously going with this idea?”

Logan looks up from his notebook. “Why not?”

“I don’t know! I say really weird shit sometimes!” Remus flails his hands in frustration. “I’m not the kind of person you should be taking seriously!”

“Why not? It was a valid question. It’s not like it’s impossible. We haven’t even tried it yet.”

Remus slumps his shoulders gaping at Logan in utter disbelief.

“Will you be able to source fertilized eggs?” Logan repeats.

For a moment, Remus says nothing. Then, he shrugs, “Yeah, sure, I’ll go hunt down some horny hens.”

“This is very satisfactory.” Logan resumes his excited scribbling. “I was correct in choosing you as my partner.”

Remus feels touched by Logan’s words and yet, at the same time, mildly annoyed by the skepticism that howls inside his brain. But he decides against grabbing Logan’s face to pull off a Scooby-Doo villain mask he could be wearing to trick Remus into believing his sincerity and, instead, turns his attention to his drawing of a headless chicken.

“Did you know that hens can eject the rooster’s sperm?” he says.

Logan doesn’t bat an eyelash. “Yes, it usually occurs when the male is lower in the pecking order.”

Remus laughs in disbelief.

Roman taps his foot nervously and checks his watch a few times before turning on his heel to head to the theater where the audition results would have just been posted on the bulletin board. He promised Janus he’d wait for him by his locker but his impatience grows with every second that Janus has kept him in frustrating anticipation. _No one_ should keep stars like him waiting!

He cringes a bit inwardly. Listen to him—talking as if he already got the part. It’s not like Roman has any doubts about the results but he, though obsessed with the theater spotlight, is not as confident as he makes himself seem. Ugh, merely admitting it to himself makes his stomach ache. He’s afraid—of making a fool out of himself, of disappointing the people he loves, and, above all, of losing the things that give him a sense of meaning.

And if he doesn’t see the paper now, _right now_ , he’ll tear his hair out.

He reaches his bulletin board and takes a deep breath. He scans the paper and—

“Yes!” he hollers, pumping his fist into the air. He got the lead! Janus did too, of course. They weren’t called Sanderville High’s Onstage Power Couple for nothing, after all.

Roman takes his phone out of his pocket and is about to dial Janus’s number when a voice from behind him startles him.

“You just couldn’t wait, could you?” Janus says as he approaches.

Roman grins at him. “Never mind that, tardy thespian. You’re looking at this play’s new lead!”

Janus chuckles. “Surprise, surprise.” He leans forward to give the paper a once-over and hums in satisfaction. “Oh, my. What an honor it is to share the stage with the great Roman King.”

“Well, then!” Roman grabs Janus’s hand and twirls him around. “We must celebrate! What do you say, shakes at Shelby’s?”

Janus shakes his head with a bemused grin as he recovers from the sudden twirl and says, “As much as I _love_ to, I’ll pass. I have things to do.”

Roman pouts. “Like what?”

“I need to pick up some business documents for dad before he comes home this week.”

Roman nods in understanding. He knows that Janus currently lives with his father, a businessman who travels often and makes Janus do these different errands on certain days. Roman has never met Janus’s father and with good reason: he’s a conservative man who is unfortunately unaware that his only son swings for the same team. It’s also why Roman drops Janus off a few houses down from his real home or why he can’t stay over whenever he wants to.

Roman can’t imagine the strained relationship Janus must be having with his father especially with his mom out of the picture, but Janus swears they’re in good terms. “I’m an actor, after all,” Janus had told him then.

And still, Janus always seems so well put together. Despite losing his mother to cancer at a young age and living in a household that may not ever accept him, Janus is unafraid to be himself.

 _Stop, no, I am not going down that road_ , Roman whimpers in his head. He tells Janus, “I could drive you around? It’ll be easier for you that way.”

“And risk having his clients tell him that his secretly gay son is with a ridiculously handsome and openly homosexual boy?” Janus taps his chin. “I can _hardly_ imagine how that is going to pan out.”

Roman slumps his shoulders in defeat. “Okay, okay. But this Saturday? Don’t make me beg, you know I’m just looking for an excuse to slurp up a glass of Double Chocolate Hazelnut Milkshake!”

“With the marshmallows and chocolate fudge. I _know_ , Roman.” Janus rolls his eyes. “You talk about that every day.”

Roman’s breath hitches when Janus brushes the hair off his face teasingly. “And how can I ever say no to you?” he says with a smirk. 

“You can’t,” Roman teases back. “I’m too irresistible.”

“Woe is me,” Janus laughs. “Come on, let’s go get our scripts.”

One thing that is known to others about Virgil is that he is an artist. He can paint amazing portraits that no one would ever guess are his on account of them depicting such bright landscapes and colorful abstracts. Painting soothes him, calms him down when the pressures of living his teenage life become too much to bear.

He also enjoys that the students at his art club are quiet and leave him alone at his favorite spot by the window.

But he’d be remiss not to credit the latter to the fact that Remus sits beside him. And Remus isn’t even _part_ of the club. Not like that would stop him from coming every once in a while, though. And Remus has built such a reputation for himself of being a stubborn prick who does what he wants that no one even tries to stop him at this point.

Virgil, of course, doesn’t care either way. Remus is an artist too. So why wouldn’t Remus be given a space to express it when he wants to?

When Virgil arrives at the clubroom, he nods at the people who greet him on his way to his seat. Remus is already there, cross-legged on his stool and splattering yellow paint onto his canvas.

Remus is a messy painter and a noisy one at that. He grunts and hums and pops his lips with every scratch and stroke of his pens and brushes upon his blank canvas. Virgil can tell how it irritates the others when Remus does so but he’s grown to feel comforted by the sounds—as long as Remus doesn’t bother him with weird anecdotes about what animals’ sex appendages are called or what vile thing he found in his sock that morning.

“Pause,” Virgil tells him, and Remus holds back his brush to let Virgil get to his seat. “Sup? You’re early for once.”

“I skipped last period. And I got a spark of inspiration today!” Remus giggles. “Check it out!”

Virgil leans over and stares at the piece filled with chickens, cracked eggs, and a crazed-looking rooster screeching ‘ _cocorico!_ ’ in bold text.

“Will I regret it if I asked?” Virgil says.

“Cock-a-doodle-doo was too long,” Remus explains.

“Right,” Virgil says, turning back to his own station to dig inside his bag for his brushes.

Remus balances his pen on the top of his lip. “By the way, you seemed pretty down last Sunday. Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Virgil finds himself answering, surprised that Remus even asked. “Just had a bad dream. Nothing major.”

“Good, ‘cause you being a Debbie Downer makes you look more dead.” Remus leans over with wide eyes. “I may have to exorcise you.”

Virgil snorts. “For some reason, I’ll believe you if you say that you learned exactly how to do that through the Internet.”

“Reddit is a goldmine of the strange and the occult, V.”

“True that.”

Virgil doesn’t consider himself particularly close with Remus but if there’s anyone else he could imagine himself hanging out with voluntarily other than Patton, it would be him—to discuss conspiracy theories, horror films, dank memes, and edgy fashion apparel. In a way, Virgil is thankful that their friend group has someone like Remus because it makes him feel less conscious of his tendencies to be odd, knowing that someone has set the bar for weirdness so incredibly high.

A sharp ring makes Virgil jump and Remus grabs his phone from his backpack. “Oh, Ro’s already looking for me. Hey Virge, set this aside while it dries, will ya?”

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Virgil tells him with a quirk of his brow.

“You’re adorable, you Emo Nightmare.” Remus stands, scooping up his bag. “See you tomorrow!” And, to the entire class as he waltzes out: “Bye, dorks! That means whale penis. I called you all whale penises.”

“God fucking damnit,” Virgil murmurs, flustered, as he puts on his headphones and throws the hood of his jacket over his head. Forget everything he just said. He would never want to stay in one place on his own with Remus.

Roman flips through the pages of his script as he waits beside his car, having been left there by Janus a few moments ago to run his errands.

He sees Remus jostling towards him from his peripheral vision and he looks up, noting the paint splatters on his gray shirt. _Wait_ —

“Is that my shirt?” Roman says in horror.

“What? No!” Remus pauses. “Maybe? I dunno, it was in my dresser.”

“Whatever, it’s yours now.” Roman walks around the car to pull open his door and Remus follows, climbing up to the passenger seat.

“Ah, finally,” Remus says as he stretches his legs. “You never offer to bring me home.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Roman tells him as he starts the engine. “Rehearsals start soon with I, your dashing brother, as the lead!”

“Big whoop.” Remus rolls his eyes. “You’re _always_ the lead. What’s your new play about?”

“Friendship, trust, betrayal, and death!”

Remus stares at Roman. “Yes, boy, give me _nothing_ ,” he utters deadpanned.

“I can’t tell you yet!” Roman huffs. “But it’s dark and mysterious and you will love it. There’s even a bed scene!”

That catches Remus’s attention. “Ooh! Now _that’s_ a play! Do you know how many people would go crazy to watch you get _nasty_ onstage? You’re going to need to hire me as your bodyguard!”

“Ah, such is the life of a handsome prince like me,” Roman sighs wistfully.

Remus hums. “Does J-Anus get a sex scene too? Damn, that would make the whole school explode.”

“What do you mean?”

“Duh, ‘cause he’s gorg? Even with that jacked up face. Pretty sure everyone’s secretly hot and horny for him.” Remus wriggles his brows. “I mean, if you aren’t staking your claim on him, there’s a loooong line waiting.”

“Okay,” Roman says, his voice wavering. “First of all, you know it’s a skin condition. Second of all, let’s go back to talking about _me_. I’m sure I’ve got a long line of suitors waiting too!”

Remus snorts. “Yeah, but between you and J? It’s J all the way.”

Roman feels a piercing pain in his chest when Remus says that. _Nope, nope, STILL not going down that road._

“Yip, yap!” Roman blurts out. “Okay, _clearly_ your opinion doesn’t matter because you’re just saying that to spite me!”  
  
“Facts are facts bro.”

“You’re just jealous of my looks!”

“You fucking moron. We _look alike_.” 

“You know what? I change my mind,” Roman scowls. “We’re _not_ going to Taco Bell.”

Remus gasps. “What?! Bitch!”

“Nope. Heading straight home.”

“ _Ro_!” Remus cries as he grasps Roman’s arm. “My Chalupaaaa!”

“Take back what you said right now.”

“Okay, okay!” Remus throws his hands up in surrender. “You’re the hotter one! Gosh, you theater people are so dramatic.”

“ _You theater people are so dramatic_ ,” Roman repeats mockingly under his breath. 

Remus flicks Roman’s ear. In retaliation, Roman smacks his hand over Remus’s face, who then licks it and smacks Roman’s own face.

A loud beep makes them both jump in their seats and Roman swerves the car just in time before he could accidentally hit the oncoming traffic from the opposite lane on the road. They sit in stunned silence for a few minutes.

It is Remus who breaks it, coughing. “Truce?”

Roman nods rapidly. “Truce.”


	7. The Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we find out Roman's greatest fear and weakness.

Roman is not as confident as he makes himself seem. He’s afraid—of many things but, above all, of admitting to himself that he is nowhere near the level of talent, looks, and intelligence of the person he’s threatened by the most: his best friend. His heart can never take being compared to him. He strived so hard to get what he’s gotten, to look the way he does, to be admired the way he is, that he can and will never accept being second best to someone who has never even _tried_. 

Roman hated Janus the moment Janus appeared out of nowhere and effortlessly got the part Roman wanted. Janus was starting to get the attention Roman had spent years earning. Roman had been mean, calling Janus names and ignoring him during rehearsals.

After a year, when Roman got cast as the main lead for a play with Janus as the villain, he savored every moment to gloat in front of him until Janus, one day, said, “You know why you didn’t get the part of Macbeth? Because the play sucks. And you are much better playing cooler roles than a selfish prick who murders innocent people just because some witches told him to. No one would’ve liked to see you play that role. Did you really think it’s because I did better than you at auditions?” Janus turned his heel to walk away, but not before he said, “You’re so talented, Roman King. I don’t understand why you sell yourself so short.”

Roman first thought it was all lip service. Why would someone who is far better than him talk about him with so much admiration? But Roman later discovered that he is better off not knowing, because he soon found himself hanging onto every praise that falls out of Janus‘s lips and believing them, desperately, to gain a sense of self-worth.

Because if Janus says they’re true, then they must be. Janus never lies.

Roman waves at Janus from the booth as soon as he sees him entering through the double doors at Shelby’s. He observes Janus’s outfit as he approaches—a yellow cashmere sweater and gray pegged pants—and he lets out a small snicker of amusement.

“What?” Janus says as he sits across him from the table.

“Doesn’t your dad ever realize that you shop at the vintage women’s department?”

“It’s called fashion,” Janus hisses. “Have you ordered?”

“I just did when you said you were just around the corner,” Roman replies. “They should be coming right about…now!”

As if on cue, a waitress arrives at their table with a tray of two hefty glasses filled to the brim with their milkshakes and a plate of fries. “One Double Chocolate Hazelnut and one Peanut Butter Banana with a side of potatoes,” she says. “Enjoy kids.”

Roman squirms giddily on his seat. “I _love_ Shelby’s!”

Janus hums as he stirs his shake with his straw. “You love it because it reminds you of the set from ‘ _Grease Live’._ ”

“ _What's that playing on the radio?_ ” Roman starts to sing. “ _Why do I start swaying to and fro?_ ”

“Pretty sure it’s Bruno Mars,” Janus answers, glancing at the speakers on the ceiling.

“ _I have never heard that song before. But if I don't hear it anymore_ … ugh, I love that song,” Roman swoons, taking a big sip from his glass.

“Get to the chorus at least,” Janus tells him, propping his elbow on the table to rest his chin on his palm. “ _Those magic changes…_ ”

“ _My heart arranges a melody that's never the same, a melody that's calling your name and begs you please come back to me_ ,” Roman belts out as Janus watches with a bemused smirk. _There it is_ , he thinks—that look of admiration on Janus’s face that fills Roman with confidence and pride.

He finishes singing the chorus and Janus claps his hands. “Ah, blessed by the Prince’s voice,” he titters.

Roman waves him off. “Oh, you flatter me too much.”

Janus shrugs and takes a sip of his own drink. “Just speaking with honesty.”

Roman feels warmth rise up to his chest. There he is again, reveling in the way Janus butters him up with compliments and praises.

“You sing something next,” he tells Janus, who wrinkles his nose in defiance.

“Unlike you, I don’t showcase my talent in public without a fee.”

“Okay then.” Roman tosses a fry into his mouth. “I’ll pay for your half of the bill. Now sing!”

Janus blinks rapidly. “You’re so over the top. You hear me sing all the time.”

Roman reddens. “Well, I already offered! Ugh, you just can’t let me be smooth, can you?”

“Well, now I’m embarrassed,” Janus smirks. “I think I’ll turn the offer down.”

“Bitch,” Roman mutters with a pout. He takes a long sip of his milkshake and licks his lips contentedly. “Want some?”

Janus shrugs and takes the mug. He turns Roman’s straw towards him and drinks from it, quirking a brow when he sees Roman staring at him as he does so. “What?

“Nothing,” Roman says. “Can I have some of yours too?”

“Be my guest.”

Roman does the same, using Janus’s own straw to take a sip, and they lock eyes for a brief second.

In that brief second, the “line” materializes before them—the line that must not be crossed. Roman and Janus have always been aware of this line and have stumbled through many instances where one sudden move can shift the balance they’ve maintained for years and send them both falling into the pit of no return.

A brush of fingers during drives home, a lean of one’s head on the other’s shoulder on the couch, or, like now, eye contact that sends sparks through their body.

It only lasts for a second. But Roman knows this dance.

He pulls away, face contorting with disgust. “Ugh, why do you consume this putrid thing?”

The line disappears and Janus feigns offense. “You clearly have no taste.”

They switch their mugs and fall back into a casual conversation filled with gossip and jokes and stories and music.

Roman is content with this.


	8. For Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Remus opens up about how much his brother means to him

_It is a bright summer day when Roman and Remus, both eight-years-old, take a trip to the playground on their bikes. They had dropped by Patton’s house to invite him to play with them, but his father, Mr. Picani, had told them that Patton had come down with a fever and won’t be able to join them._

_Roman was disappointed, having wanted to show off his new sparkly rainbow top that his mom just bought for him at the department store. But he and Remus went on ahead to enjoy their free time._

_While playing pretend near the jungle gym, a group of kids around their age approach them with looks of menace._

_“You’ve got a weird shirt,” one of them tells Roman. “Isn’t that for girls?”_

_“It’s a rainbow,” Roman answers, which earns bouts of snide laughter._

_“Boys don’t wear rainbow. You’re not a boy.”_

_“And what’s up with your hair?” Another tells Remus, pointing at the white streaks peeking out of his dark auburn bangs. “You’re a grandpa!”_

_“Leave us alone,” Remus snarls._

_“You’re a weirdo! You’re a girl!” They continue to taunt Roman, pointing at his shirt. “Ugly girl!”_

_Remus glances worryingly at Roman and when he sees tears forming at his brother’s eyes, his face contorts into a scowl as he growls, “I’m gonna kill you!”_

_He lets out a loud screech as he charges towards the group, who run away from the playground laughing and screaming._

_When the bullies leave, Remus quickly runs back to Roman who is now sitting on the ground and hugging his knees close to his chest. “They’re gone now,” Remus tells him, panting heavily._

_Roman mumbles something that Remus fails to catch and Remus kneels in front of him, grasping Roman’s shoulders. “What did you say?"_

_“I want to go home,” Roman sniffles._

_“But we just got here.”_

_“I want to go home.”_

_Remus flinches and he helps Roman up, leading him to where their bikes are parked to ride back home. Upon arriving at their front door, Roman drops his bike and sprints inside, straight to their shared bedroom, with Remus following closely behind._

_Roman swings the door of their room open and quickly tears off his sequined top to discard it angrily on the floor._

_“Hey!” Remus exclaims. “What are you doing?”_

_“I don’t ever want to wear that again!” Roman sobs, throwing himself onto his bed to cry heavily into his pillow._

_Remus stares at Roman’s pale body, all curled up and shuddering, and winces at the pain he feels in his chest. He picks up the discarded shirt gingerly and folds it before setting it on top of their wardrobe dresser. He then walks over to Roman’s bed and sits next to him. “Why?” Remus asks._

_“Cause they called me weird! They called me a girl!”_

_“But you’re not.”_

_“But that’s what they said!”_

_“Who cares what they said?!” Remus voice quivers in anger. “It doesn’t make it true! They’re just jealous ‘cause you’re pretty and they aren’t! If anyone says mean stuff like that about you again, I’m just gonna chase them away!”_

_Roman turns over and looks at Remus, eyes red and puffy, but hopeful. Remus voice softens as he says, with conviction, “I’m not gonna let anyone make you cry like this again, Ro. I swear on my life!”_

_“You mean it?” Roman asks, and Remus nods._

_“No one’s ever going to hurt you, Ro,” Remus tells him. “Not while I’m around.”_

_Roman sniffles and wipes the tears from his eyes with his arm. He looks at Remus with a small smile. “I’m so happy you’re my brother, Remmy.”_

_Remus hugs him tight. “I love you.”_

The first thing Logan notices in Remus’s room is creative mess. Paint bottles and markers take up space in one corner of the room with canvasses and sketchbooks; a sewing kit, some fabric, and a few soda can tabs sit on top of a stool; toy guns, swords, and a morningstar made out of styrofoam peek from the half-opened closet; and a makeup palette lies open on top of his vanity.

Everywhere else is occupied by clothes, books, a few potted plants, and magazines.

“Shit,” Remus says when they enter the room. “Maybe I should have cleaned up a bit.”

“No, it’s quite alright. I’m not bothered at all,” Logan tells him. “Could I sit on this stool, though?”

Remus collects the items that are sitting on top of the chair. “So, like, I did some scavenging on Facebook and Reddit. I’m meeting a guy with cartons of eggs tomorrow.”

“Is he a reliable source?

“Who knows. Don’t worry though, I’ll bring my machete in case he doesn’t keep up his end of the bargain.” Remus flashes his evil grin. “So what you got, Specs?”

They spend a few hours going back and forth with research, hypotheses, ideas, and egg-related jokes (only on Remus’s end). By the time they finish, Logan’s laptop is filled with notes and Remus is lying on his bed nursing a headache.

“My brain is broken,” Remus whines.

Logan glances his way. “Falsehood, seeing as you had just formed a coherent sentence.”

Remus flips him the bird.

Logan closes his laptop and rises from his seat, stretching upward and pacing around the room. He takes a moment to look at the family photos taped to the mirror of Remus’s vanity. It’s only in one of them that there is a man smiling for the camera and carrying both young twins on his shoulders. Logan doesn’t pry; instead, he notices the other photos of Remus and Roman at different ages—in one, they’re showing off their art pieces; in another, they’re at a beach; in another, they are riding their bikes in a grassy field; and in yet another, the most recent one, they’re both wearing a full face of makeup and posing seductively for the shot.

“You and Roman seem very close,” Logan says.

“We literally shared a womb together,” Remus says with sarcasm.

Logan walks back to his stool and shares, “Well, even so. Your relationship as brothers is a thing of envy.”

Remus sits up as Logan settles himself back down on his chair. “You have a brother too?”

“A much older sibling. They're studying business in Europe. Don’t get me wrong, we have a good relationship. They just don’t call often.” Logan scrolls his phone to pull up a photo of himself with his sibling taken years ago.

Remus looks at it. “You look nothing alike, holy shit.”

Logan shrugs. “As I’m often told.” He stares at the photo. “This is the last time I physically saw them. You’re fortunate to have a brother who’s always there when you need him to be.”

Remus averts his gaze. “Is he though?” he muses. “He’s always hanging out with Janus these days.”

“Are they not best friends?”

“Yeah, and they’re _inseparable_.” Remus titters in spite of himself. “You know, Ro and I used to be like that. But as soon as someone else comes and gives him attention, he’s all over them. They might as well get fucking married.”

Logan raises a brow. “I thought you said they aren’t a couple?”

“Pfft, yeah, that’s what they always say but then they’ll ogle at each other every chance they get.” Remus leans close, snickering. “You want to know a secret? We all went to a house party once when Mom was away and got _so_ piss drunk, and I swear Logan, I caught them making out on the couch. My only regret other than agreeing to do a keg stand and barfing out my insides afterwards is _not_ taking photo evidence because those assholes had the balls to pretend like nothing happened!”

Remus flails his arms in frustration. “Yeah, right, like I would hallucinate about my twin brother sucking face with one of my closest friends. Whatever.”

Logan tilts his head to the side. “Does their friendship bother you?”

Remus is taken aback. “Of course not. This is the happiest Roman has ever been in years since—” he clamps his mouth shut. “Since _years_.”

He pushes himself off his bed and paces the room. “Okay, _maybe_ I’m jealous. I used to be the person Roman tells things to first. If he had a crush on a boy or cheated on a test, he’d cry to me about it like a baby. Now, it’s like he doesn’t need me.”

He shakes his head vigorously, as though shaking off a thought in his mind. “It’s not like I’m mad about it! He’s so...” he sighs. “...happy. And that’s everything to me. If Roman’s happy, I don’t fucking care about anything else, not even myself.”

“That’s very sweet.”

Remus wrinkles his nose. “Ugh, shut up. If you tell anyone, I’ll knock your front teeth out.”

Logan nods. “Although,” he begins, “you should perhaps speak to Roman about how you feel. It may make you feel better if you communicate.”

Remus makes a face of disgust.

“Or, you know,” Logan sighs, “I’m sure that when the time comes that he’s ready to move beyond his platonic relationship with Janus, he’ll go to you first for advice. It’s only logical.”

Remus considers this. “Yeah, you’re right.” He scratches the back of his neck. “This is weird, I don’t know why I‘m opening up to you of all people. I hardly know you!”

“Perhaps that’s why? I have no prior judgement of your friendship. All I can offer is objective advice.”

Remus narrows his eyes with suspicion before he groans. “Ugh, enough cheesiness. Wanna play some video games?”

Logan blanches. “Oh I don’t—I’ve never played.”

“Oh, you poor nerd.” Remus extends his arm. “Let Saint Remus show you the light.”

Logan glances at the fluorescent light in the ceiling before accepting his hand.


	9. What Makes Us Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Logan and Roman get into an argument, and Logan learns something new about Patton.

Nearly a month passes and Patton, Virgil, Roman, Remus, Logan, and, for the first time in a long while, Janus sit together in the table at the far corner of the cafeteria discussing their plan for the next movie marathon.

Prior to that hour, Patton was teasing Virgil about worrying so much the last time. “See?” He told him. “Everything’s just fine!”

“Things can happen in a week. Don’t get too excited,” Virgil responded sullenly.

Patton shushed him. “What am I always telling you, Virgil? With happy, peppy Patton here, nothing can ever go wrong!”

His bright attitude continues to emanate over lunch as they all decide on a date. “So it’s decided? Next Saturday?” he asks them.

He is met with nods and sounds of affirmation around the table, and he giddily types the event on his phone calendar.

“How’s the experiment going?” Virgil asks Remus and Logan across from him.

They exchange a look. “Well, it ain’t going _egg_ -cellently, that’s for sure,” Remus says.

“No results yet,” Logan answers. “Still tweaking things on our set-up.”

“Any longer and I’m about to _crack_ ,” Remus adds.

“Well, if you need an _egg_ -xtra pair of hands, you know _egg_ -xactly where to look!” Patton chimes in, raising his palms.

“You _yolks_ and your egg jokes are _egg_ -xquisite!” Roman adds.

“That was _so_ bad Roman,” Janus remarks. “But _omelette_ that slide.”

Roman laughs. “Oh, thank god, for a moment I was crushed.”

“Don’t you mean _scrambled_?” Virgil and Patton say in unison.

“I...I am going to explode,” Logan mutters under his breath.

“Good one!” The rest tell him.

“No, I—ugh.”

“Eggs aside,” Roman interjects, “rehearsals are going spectacularly! Don’t forget that the show is a month away!”

“That’s quick,” Virgil tells him with surprise.

Patton’s eyes sparkle with excitement. “Oh, I can’t wait! What’s it about?”

“Friendship, trust, betrayal, and death!” Roman whacks the table with emphasis.

“God, Janus, I beg of you,” Remus pleads, reach across the table to hold Janus’s hands. “Please give us more than what this baboon has been saying for the past two weeks.”

“Hey!”

“Gladly,” Janus says with a sly smile. “It’s about friendship and trust between Roman and my characters that leads to betrayal and eventual death.”

Remus slams his forehead on the table. “I hate you both.”

“In any case,” Roman continues, shoving Remus’s hands off of Janus’s, “we’re setting aside tickets for you all, including you, Specs!”

Logan looks at him with mild surprise. “Oh, that won’t be necessary.”

Roman pauses. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I’m not a fan of theater.”

There’s a moment when you know that a war had just been waged, and, try as you may, there is no way of turning back from it. It takes Remus mumbling “Fuck” that Patton realizes this, and he watches in dismay as Roman’s joyful demeanor crumples into outrage.

“Not a fan of theater?!” Roman repeats through gritted teeth. “Are you blind?”

“Of course not.”

“How can you _not_ appreciate life’s greatest form of art?”

“That’s highly subjective.”

Roman scoffs and looks wildly at Janus beside him, who had been watching the argument unfold with a bemused expression. “Will you _unkindly_ tell this Erlenmeyer Trash invalidating our existence that he’s wrong?”

Logan quirks a brow. “I’m not invalidating anyone’s existence. It’s nothing personal. We’re entitled to our own opinions.”

“Of course it’s personal! And as if I would listen to the opinion of a straight boy who thinks wearing ties to school is fashionable,” Roman says with exasperation.

Logan scoffs at that. “You can make fun of my eyesight, but my ties? Is _nothing_ sacred?”

“Oh, and _theater_ isn’t?”

“Hey, now,” Patton laughs nervously, reaching out with open palms. “Let’s not get too carried away!”

He feels Virgil slump further forward on the table, whispering with urgency, “Remus, do something.”

Remus sighs and lifts up his food tray. “Here’s to hoping I don’t give him a concussion.”

“Not like _that_!”

“You want to hear _my_ opinion?” Roman tells Logan threateningly. “Crofter’s jam isn’t even _that_ good!”

Logan slams his fist on the table and points a finger towards Roman. “ _FALSEHOOD_ _!_ ” he screams, shocking many students at the surrounding tables who whip their heads around to stare at the group who are likewise gaping with mouths ajar.

Logan gasps, retracting his hand and glancing anxiously at all the pairs of eyes glued on him. “I... I apologize,” he stammers quietly. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Virgil throws the hood of his jacket over his head in distress as Remus yells out “What are you all staring at?!” to everyone nearby. Roman looks at Janus, completely affronted, asking, “Did he just scream at me?!” while Janus keeps his gaze on Logan, biting back a chuckle.

“I should go,” Logan says, rising from his seat.

“No!” Patton grabs his arm. “Logan, it’s okay! Roman didn’t mean what he said, and I’m sure you didn’t mean to yell at him. It’s all just a misunderstanding! Now, let’s all apologize and hug each other and move right along!”

Roman glares at Patton. “Excuse me? I am _not_ going to do that!”

Remus grabs his collar and grunts, “Shut up and do it or I will shove your dick up your nose.”

The school bell rings and Roman pushes Remus off to leave the table with a huff.

Janus rises from his seat and remarks, “This has been fun. I’m _so glad_ I joined you all today.”

“I was right,” Virgil mumbles, his hood still on. “As always.”

Patton eases his grip on Logan’s arm as he watches them all disperse until it’s only him and Remus at the table.

Remus slings his bag over his shoulder and cocks his head to the side. “Patton?”

Patton jumps at his name being called and quickly puts on a bright smile. “Yeah, Remus?”

“You coming?”

“Yup!” Patton puts away his lunchbox and joins Remus in walking to their respective classrooms.

“Don’t worry about it,” Remus tells him as they leave the cafeteria. “I’ll go whack my idiot twin until he apologizes.”

“Violence isn’t the answer!” Patton chides. “And I’ll handle this. Leave it to happy, peppy Patton to fix things!”

“Okidokes then.” Remus pats Patton’s head and tells him, before parting ways at the hallway, “See ya.”

Patton waves, his smile still plastered on his face. It’s only when Remus is out of sight that his shoulders drop _._ Then, turning on his heel, he puts his plan into action.

Logan is admittedly not an emotional person. He separates himself from his feelings, convinced that they only cloud one’s judgement and ability to think logically and objectively. Proof of this was exhibited during that lunch period when a trivial matter was blown out of proportion and he managed to make a complete fool out of himself from anger.

Such is why Logan does his best to _not_ be an emotional person, because emotions make you scream nonsense when someone insults your ties or your favorite brand of jam which, by the way, was absolutely uncalled for.

But Logan would be remiss if he didn’t acknowledge that he shouldn’t have bluntly turned down an invite to watch a show, regardless of his sentiments. But Logan often says what he means before he could even realize how it can come across to other people, and it always puts him in inconvenient situations.

Sometimes, he wonders if he just isn’t cut out for maintaining friendships.

The school bell rings at the end of last period and Logan swiftly gathers his belongings to exit the classroom and head home. As he makes his way to the school entrance, he hears loud, running footsteps approaching him from behind. When he looks, he finds Patton frantically trying to catch up to him.

“Logan! Wait for me!” he yells.

Logan waits in place as Patton slows to a stop in front of him, breathing heavily. “Do you need something?” he asks.

Patton shakes his head. “Want to walk home together?”

“Sure.”

There is a stark contrast between Logan and Patton that would make any passerby do a double-take. Logan, in his crisp navy blue polo and black jeans, forges ahead with steady steps while Patton, in a white top and a baby blue cardigan, bounces with a spring in his every step. It’s only when they turn the first corner that Patton slows to a stop.

“Hey, about lunch today…” he begins, his grip on his backpack straps tightening. “Speaking in Roman’s behalf, I’m sorry. I hope you could forgive him.”

“Patton, it’s nothing you or Roman need to apologize for,” Logan tells him. “Quite frankly, I too am to blame. We both said things that caused the discussion to elevate. But I am more than ready to move forward from it.”

“Roman can be really passionate about things he cares about. He’s still pretty sore about what you said.” 

“I just don’t understand theater. As I said before, it isn’t personal. I’m sure Roman and Janus are very talented performers and that their production will be a success.”

“Yeah,” Patton sways on his heels, “but friends still support friends! You have to come! I’m sure that if the tables were turned, and you had a science show, Roman would still be there to cheer you on.”

“Well,” Logan sighs, considering this. “A science show is way more interesting than theater, but if you put it that way, perhaps I can try to accommodate it in my schedule.”

“Great!” Patton clasps his hands together in delight. “Anyway, I already told Roman you were sorry and that you’re coming! He’s thrilled, so there’s no reason for you to feel weird around him, okay?”

Logan steps back. “What? Why did you say that?”

“He looked so upset, Lo-Lo!” Patton wails. “And I got you to say yes anyway!”

“Falsehood. I didn’t confirm my commitment.”

Patton waves him off dismissively. “I also made him promise not to be mean to you and make fun of Crofter’s or your fan- _tie_ -stic ties. Anyhoo, everything’s fixed and we’re all ready to move on. That’s what matters.”

Logan pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in abject surrender. “Fine.”

“Yay!” Patton smiles widely at him. “Oh, almost forgot! Could I ask a teensy-tiny favor from you?”

Logan nods hesitantly.

“Could you _maaaybe_ not bring up your opinions of theater around him next time? I mean, that’s okay, right?” Patton giggles, looking at Logan expectantly.

Logan knits his brows. “You don’t want me to speak of it again, you mean?”

“Yup!”

“Why?”

“Well, we can’t have fights like a while ago breaking out again. After all, that’s not what a happy family would do!”

“Everyone gets into fights, Patton. It’s a normal occurrence. No one’s perfect.”

“Except us!” Patton grins with pride. “I make sure of it! We’re a happy family and we love each other!”

Logan stares at Patton with a bewildered look and feels a chill run down his spine the longer Patton smiles back at him with a gleaming grin.

“Patton...”

“Hm?”

Logan clears his throat. “Never mind. I may have forgotten something in my locker. I’ll be heading back.”

“Alright!”

Patton turns away and walks a few steps before Logan calls out once more to him. “Are you okay?”

Patton blinks at him. “Always! Why wouldn’t I be?”

Logan gives him a strained smile and waves goodbye, heading back to the campus and straight towards the theater auditorium, ignoring the unsettling feeling that pricks at him at the pit of his stomach.

Logan arrives, quietly entering through the doors and making a beeline to the side of the stage where he spots Janus sitting cross-legged on a stool and awaiting his turn for the run-through.

“Janus,” Logan whispers, kneeling next to him. “Where’s Roman?”

“Looking for a rematch, are you?” Janus remarks with a sly smirk.

Logan shakes his head. “No, I intend to apologize. To you as well.”

Janus shrugs. “I wasn’t at all offended. It was quite entertaining, in all honesty. And Roman seems fine now. I’m certain he’s over it.”

Logan presses his lips into a thin line, debating with himself whether or not to bring up his conversation with Patton. He decides to try, choosing his words carefully. “Janus, how long have you been friends with Patton?”

Janus frowns at the question. “Patton? Just a couple of years.”

“I see.” Logan pauses. “Does he often, err, try to solve conflicts within the group without consent?”

Janus tilts his head. “Come again?”

Logan sighs. “Nevermind. He just seems very keen in making sure everyone’s happy.”

“I guess that’s Patton for you.”

Logan sits down, hugging his knees. “Perhaps I’m overthinking it.”

Janus observes Logan at the corner of his eye. He is quiet for a moment, before he muses, “Patton and I are definitely not close. He and I are quite different. He will always place others before himself. The twins most especially. It isn’t personal, either; he’s their oldest friend. What you and I and even Virgil are experiencing now is an extension of his protectiveness. He cares a lot, and has so much love to give to our little circle of friends.”

Logan considers this. “Makes sense, I suppose.”

Janus taps his foot on the floor as he continues, “But there are aspects about him that nobody else seems to acknowledge that I have likewise observed in the past two years we’ve been friends. And it’s that we have something in common: he will do anything to make sure things go his way. He will never admit that that’s what he’s doing, but you and I are no fools. He cares too much about this tiny society he’s made that he will bend over backwards just to make sure we’re all jolly-good and perfect.”

“But it can’t always be like that.”

Janus throws his head back in laughter. “Oh, honey. We’ve lasted this long, haven’t we? We just _love_ sweeping issues under the rug and pretending they don’t exist the following day.”

Logan looks at him disapprovingly. “And you’re alright with that?”

Janus leans his face close to Logan, staring deeply into his eyes. “Ignorance is bliss.”

Logan blinks, feeling heat creep up to his face.

Janus draws back, shaking his head in disbelief. “Then again, I could be overthinking it too. I do believe that Patton has only the purest intentions, albeit misguided. I’m only letting him be because I could care less. No one’s getting hurt and I am left completely unbothered. That’s all that matters.”

Logan grimaces. “None of you make any sense. I question my sanity more and more as weeks go by.”

Janus flashes a knowing smile. “Welcome to the group, Logan Evans.”

Logan doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Oh, there’s Roman.” Janus gestures towards Roman, who spots them from a distance and begins jostling up to them. “You already know what to say?”

“I’m just going to apologize and be off,” Logan answers.

“Patton didn’t give you his little tip?” Janus hums. “I guess I’ll forward the message then, something he told me years ago.”

Logan raises his brows as Janus leans close to whisper into his ear. 

“Just tell Roman what he wants to hear. It’ll make things easier for everyone.”

Logan’s breath hitches as Roman walks up to him. “Logan! Watching our rehearsals to see exactly why you’re _wrong_ about theater, huh?”

Logan glances at Janus, who is watching him expectantly.

“I am...allowing myself to have an open mind. I apologize for earlier.”

“That’s okay, Pocket Protector. Patton already told me everything. I’m sorry too. I...” Roman scratches the back of his head in embarrassment. “I actually lied. I like Crofter’s. It’s the best darn jam there is.”

Logan’s eyes widen. “Right?! It’s the only jelly I would put in my belly!”

Logan pretends not to hear Janus chuckling from beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No hate for Patton, please. There's a perfectly good reason behind what he did in this chapter! He's still my precious little angel <3


	10. Perfect Little World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Patton does everything to be exactly like his superhero: his father, Dr. Emile.

Patton takes pride in being the Kings’ oldest friend and he would do anything to keep them happy.

Just the same, he would do anything to keep the rest happy too. They’re his family. Fam-I-L-Y. They mean everything to him. Because if Patton can successfully keep them all safe and comforted in the presence of each other, then nothing could ever go wrong.

Patton is the only son of the city’s best therapist, Dr. Emile Picani. Despite being adopted when he was still a baby, he lived most of his life being told by relatives, teachers, and strangers how much he resembles his father—from his hair, to his glasses, to his smile.

And Patton loved it; he has always looked up to his dad. Everyone adored Emile—he could brighten any room, comfort any patient, and make any kid laugh with his songs and cartoon references.

Patton would always talk about his dad to anyone who would hear it. While all his friends gushed over Batman or Wonder Woman or the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Emile was Patton’s hero—and Patton wanted nothing more than to be just like him.

Emile also had so much love to give to Patton and smothered him every day with it. He was always in complete awe that Patton never cried, never threw tantrums, and never asked for new toys every week. “My happy, peppy Pattoncake,” he always called him.

But growing up in a single-parent household where Patton had no siblings, he quickly came to be acquainted with loneliness. Emile started gaining popularity within the neighborhood and increasingly got busier that he spent less and less time playing with his son.

Emile started dropping Patton off at his good friend Anthony King’s house to have Patton play with kids his age and, although Patton grew to love the twins, he still missed Emile a whole lot that he decided one day to get angry with his dad for once.

But on the night that he was going to pull off his very first tantrum (he had rehearsed it with Roman that afternoon), Patton found Emile seated alone at the dining table, his shoulders sagging and his face buried on the palms of his hands.

“Daddy?” Patton called from the doorframe.

Emile jumped at the sound and put on a tired grin. “Hi Pattoncake. Did you have fun today?”

Patton gripped the hem of his pajama shirt. “Why are you crying?”

Emile stood and picked his son up before walking up to his bedroom. “Because I had a patient today who was very sad.”

“Why?”

“Because his boyfriend was being _very mean_ to him. He was so sad and it hurt me that he was sad.”

Patton pouted. “I don’t like it when you’re sad.”

“Me too, kiddo.” Emile swung the door of Patton’s room open and he sat on the edge of his bed, cradling Patton in his arms. “That’s why we gotta think happy thoughts, like Peter Pan! Remember him?”

Patton nodded his head. “Daddy, why do you do your job if it makes you cry?” he asked with wide, curious eyes.

Emile laughed. “Because I want to make people smile! Especially the people I care about. I don’t like seeing them crying or being angry or being hurt. So, I help them fix things so they can be happy again.”

“Fix things?”

Emile nodded. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Patton gave it a thought. “Is it like saving the day?”

“Well... yes!”

Patton gasped. “Like a superhero!”

Emile giggled and kissed Patton on the forehead. “Oh, kiddo. Am I really your hero?”

“Uh huh! I wanna be like you when I grow up!”

“Oh, my happy, peppy Pattoncake! Hearing that just made me _Emile_ -llion times better!”

Patton giggled and Emile put him down on his bed to tuck him in. “I’m gonna make tons of people happy too!” Patton said, beaming brightly at his father.

“I’m sure of it, kiddo,” Emile told him, giving him a soft pat on the head. “One day, you will find people you will love so much and you will realize that the greatest gift you can ever give them is to make sure they never, ever get sad.”

Patton’s eyes glistened as he heard those words.

To Patton, Emile is everything he could ever want to be: smart, kind, funny, and so full of love. But his desperation to be just like Emile ended up taking a toll on his emotional wellbeing.

Having grown up taking pride in being Emile’s “perfectly happy child,” Patton ended up repressing most of his unwanted emotions. He didn’t want to burden his father with problems at home, especially when he’s already dealing with the issues of others at work. It’s not what a good superhero would do, he tells himself.

It kind of felt like he grew up too fast, acting as the emotional support for his friends when they failed to process their own feelings or when they went through difficult things. He provided comfort to Roman and Remus for weeks when their dad got into an accident and passed away. He’s helped Virgil deal with his pent-up anger and anxiety from time to time. 

And just like his father, Patton did everything to help fix their problems. He encouraged Roman, then so insecure of himself, to try out theater and cheered Remus on to express his then-destructive tendencies into art. He confided in Virgil just so Virgil could share his own secrets too, just to make Virgil feel that there’s someone out there he can trust to understand who he is. He even went as far as helping solve Roman’s seventh grade “Janus Dilemma”, which was the very first time Patton had tried to confront somebody for a friend’s sake. (And it’s remained unspoken about between him and Janus to this day.)

Meanwhile, his own icky feelings bubbled up inside him. But he was afraid of confronting them, of letting them out. Because people need him, and he can’t show them that he, too, has his own problems to deal with.

But he sometimes wishes that his dad could sense it, could see it when they talk face-to-face over dinner, could hear it in the hollow laughter that reverberates through the house. But Emile always looked so tired that Patton couldn’t bear to disappoint him.

It’s laughable, how Patton can’t even open himself up to his therapist of a father, whose very job is to listen without judgment and make you accept that your feelings are valid.

But it doesn’t matter; Patton had a purpose in life. He found friends he loves so much that he will do anything, absolutely anything, to make sure they are never, ever sad again. Oftentimes, he’s able to do it well. But there are days when he needs to resort to desperate measures, like planting an idea into someone’s head, or prohibiting them all to bring up a subject again, or even speaking and apologizing on someone’s behalf so as to not prolong the conflict any further.

All this, Patton convinces himself, is necessary to keep the peace, to make sure everything’s fine and that they can all move forward as if nothing happened.

After all, they’re a family, and family never fights. Family is never sad. Family is always full of love. If Virgil, Roman, Remus, and Janus can’t feel that in their own real families, then at least they can feel it in this one.


	11. Everything is Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Virgil realizes that everything is fine after all.

A week passes and Virgil is staring at the Kings’ white front door, still in complete disbelief that they had managed to keep their group from falling apart before their scheduled movie marathon that day.

He’s a little late that morning on account of Remy taking their time testing out a new coffee brewing technique which, to Virgil’s frustration, ends up failing miserably, leading them both to drop by a Starbucks instead before heading to the Kings’ household. (“Relax, V, I’ll get you there in time. Don’t get your briefs in a twist.”)

Anyway, Virgil gets there miraculously in one piece and he knocks on the door until Valerie opens it to greet him.

Virgil heads down to the den and sees Patton and Logan fixing the snack table, Remus sprawled upside down on the couch scrolling through Spotify to choose the next song to play on the speakers (it is currently blasting Joji), and Janus beside him trying to annoy Roman with a slew of anti-jokes (“What’s worse than finding a worm in your apple? Getting fucking robbed.”). They all look up to greet him and Virgil realizes that, yup, it’s real and it’s all happening.

The movie marathon thus proceeds as follows: Patton starts with “The Royal Tenenbaums,” before Logan puts on “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.” Roman attempts to lighten the mood with “Begin Again” but sheds tears anyway at the ending. When it’s Janus’s turn, he puts on “Pan’s Labyrinth” (in the original Spanish language, much to Roman and Remus’s delight). Remus and Virgil discuss who goes last and Remus decides to go ahead with the “fabulous gay icon,” “Babadook.” Emotionally distressed, Patton begs Virgil to not put on another horror movie and Virgil tells him that he’s lucky that he’s ending the night with “What We Do In the Shadows.”

They try their hardest not to laugh when they find “pasghetti” on the dinner table afterward.

When they’re all dressed in pajamas with mugs of hot chocolate (courtesy of Patton and Logan) in each of their hands, they sit in a circle at the couch, with Virgil and Remus sitting on the floor, as they open up about how they’ve been doing the past days or weeks. 

Everyone is surprised at Logan speaking at length about their experiment which Roman still believes is impossible but admits would be impressed if they manage to pull it off. Patton questions where they even got their eggs from and Remus bluntly answers “Black Market” which earns him a fist bump from Virgil and a look of horror from both Janus and Patton. “Calm down, mom and dad, I’m just shitting you,” Remus grumbles.

Roman, strangely, doesn’t feel like talking about the play which the others initially think is because of what happened at lunch the week prior but Janus explains that it’s just because Roman is butt hurt from not doing this particular scene right and being called out for it. Janus, however, rolls his eyes in exasperation and tells him that he’ll get it right, he just has to loosen up and not have such ridiculously high expectations of himself. Roman pouts but gets visibly calmer, so he passes on the question to Patton, who claims he’s been busy learning how bake bread and actually has a starter at home named “Lilypad.”

“Why Lilypad?” Logan asks him.

“Cause it looked like the underside of one!”

“Is it supposed to look like that?”

“...hopefully?” Patton laughs nervously. “Well, like my dad always says to quote _Steven Universe_ : ‘If every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hotdogs!’”

“That hardly makes sense.”

Lastly, Virgil nonchalantly says he’s just been chill without anything much going for him until Patton accidentally lets slip that Virgil’s art club has an exhibit in school coming up soon that the others are surprised they haven’t heard about ‘til now and Virgil, though flustered that Patton revealed it himself, brushes it off and says, “No one asked.”

Afterward, Remus announces that it’s time for “skincare with the homie-sexuals” hosted by the group’s resident gays, Janus and Roman, and Remus (he’s yet to figure out his label). They spend the next hour going through moisturizers, serums, face masks, and eye patches until the wash of calm from their spontaneous pamper session makes all of them drowsy.

But before they could turn in, Virgil swipes open the camera of his phone and tosses it over to Roman, who then shouts, “Selfie!”

One final chaos for the night ensues.

“Virgil, can you look _less_ dead?”

“Do you even know how to smile, Microsoft Nerd?”

“Why does J-Anus look perfect in every angle?!”

“Oh no! I didn’t know we were supposed to do wacky faces!”

“Remus, put your _freakin’_ shirt down, no one wants to see that.”

“So _this_ is what a selfie is.” (Silence.) “I’m joking. I am capable of that, if you weren’t aware. See? It shut you all up. Now, take the picture please.”

A number of photos later, they huddle around Roman to check how they all look on the phone. Patton gleefully gushes, “I can’t wait for our next sleepover!”

“The night hasn’t even ended and you’re already thinking about the next?” Janus remarks with a quirk of a brow.

“I just have a lot of feelings,” Patton replies with a whimper. “Which reminds me! It’s your birthday in a couple of weeks, huh?”

Janus’s eyes widen with surprise. “You actually took note of that?”

“Of course, silly! I remember all your birthdays!”

“Yeah! Party!” Remus yells out, throwing his hands in the air.

Janus grips Remus’s wrist and lowers it. “If you’ve all forgotten, I don’t celebrate my birthday.”

“Another year closer to death,” Virgil mumbles in agreement.

Patton and Remus whine in unison and Janus looks at them sharply. “Surprises are the bane of my existence. So don’t you dare try anything.” He glances at Roman who quickly looks towards the ceiling and whistles with mischief.

They all finally decide to turn in for the night and Virgil browses the photos on his camera roll once again. He stares at each of their smiling faces, free of worry and pretense, and he’s reminded on exactly why he does this in the first place—taking snapshots of moments he wants to treasure for life. With a satisfied smile, he puts on his sleeping mask and pulls the covers over his head.


	12. The Misfits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Logan, Remus, and Virgil form a little group

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A moment of reprieve, because it's all going downhill soon.

Remus stares at the raw egg sitting on top of a clear plastic film covering the opening of a plastic cup and grunts. “It’s a dud.”

Logan clicks his pen and scribbles on his notebook. “So changing the length of time didn’t work either...”

“That’s the tenth fertilized egg going straight to the garbage,” Remus muses. “No one better tell Janus about this.”

Logan clicks on the tabs on the open web browser of his desktop computer as he says, “Perhaps we should move on to our next option, which I’ve discovered upon further research. Some suggest incubating the eggs beforehand to start the development process before we crack them open.”

“Uh oh. Where are we going to find a place to incubate them?”

“I’ll help look. Could you get more eggs in the meantime?”

Remus lies down on the floor with both hands on his phone. “Already on it, boss.”

Logan nods his head. “Satisfactory.” He stands from his chair and bends down to pick up the plastic cup with the raw egg yolk. “I’ll toss this out downstairs.”

Remus makes a noise of protest. “Are you _suuuure_ we can’t fry it and eat it?”

“Remus, this has been sitting exposed for over a week.”

“I’ll do it for 10 dollars.”

“Why would I pay you to get food poisoning?”

“I could pay you, then?”

“...again, _why_ would I _want_ to be paid to watch you get food poisoning?”

Remus groans loudly. “Logie, you’re no _fun_!” He sits up and looks at the corner. “Back me up on this one!”

Logan looks behind him. “You will do no such thing.”

Virgil, who had been sitting in the corner watching them for the past hour, sneers. “When you told me to come over, I didn’t expect to have to sit through you two talking about _science_.”

“You said you wanted to hang out!”

“To play _Cuphead_. Not see dead chicks.”

“Seriously, _no one_ tell Janus.”

“They are technically not dead chicks because the embryo didn’t get a chance to develop.”

“I’m going to smash my head against the wall if I sit through _five more minutes_ of this conversation.”

With a resigned sigh, Logan walks over to his bedroom door. “I’ll toss this out and we can leave at once.”

It’s 2:45 on the dot when Logan, Remus, and Virgil step out of Logan’s home—a modest two-story abode with a basement and a small attic which Logan had transformed into a mini observatory.

It’s quite a walk to Remus’s residence but his two companions don’t seem to mind going on a long leisurely stroll in the mid-afternoon. Besides, Remus is there to supply them with endless topics to talk about—from school, to television shows, to things he saw on Reddit, to random cosplay ideas he hopes to work on soon.

Eventually, they make it to their street, passing by Patton’s small blue house along the way.

“Is Patton not gonna hang out with us?” Remus asks Virgil, who shrugs.

“He’s grocery shopping with his dad.”

“Aww, I miss Doc Picani. He used to always give us the best candy!”

Logan blinks at them both. “Patton’s father is a doctor?”

“Well,” Virgil answers. “He’s a therapist.”

Logan almost trips over himself. _A therapist!_ he thinks. It makes more sense now why Patton seems to be the way he is.

“What is Dr. Picani like?” Logan asks.

“Really cool,” Virgil answers almost at the same time Remus exclaims, “He’s awesome!”

“He’s exactly like an older Patton—nice and sweet and happy-go-lucky,” Remus continues. “Can’t help but smile around him.”

“And he’s always talking about cartoons, which is kinda weird but nice,” Virgil adds. “So if you’re into a show, you might have interesting conversations with him. He’s really smart too. I think you’d like him.”

Logan hums. “So I take it that he has a very good relationship with Patton?”

“Of course!” Remus chirps as he twirls his house keys around his finger. “Patton used to not shut up about wanting to be like him when he grows up. Baby boy is well on his way.”

Logan tilts his head in understanding but notices Virgil beside him pursing his lips in mild unease. Logan turns to face him as Remus sprints ahead to unlock the front door of his home and asks, “What are your thoughts?”

“Huh?” Virgil answers, startled. “Uhh. They’re chill. I guess.”

Logan doesn’t seem convinced. “Really?”

“What?”

“It looks as if there is something on your mind.”

Virgil makes a face. “What? No.”

They enter through the door and Remus announces that he’s taking a piss in the bathroom.

“Are you certain?” Logan presses as he and Virgil take a seat at the living room couch.

Virgil scrunches his nose and grips the hem of his jacket. “Ugh, get off my back, L.”

Logan squints his eyes. “I’m not on your back. I’m 6 feet away from you.”

Virgil rubs his temples and sighs. “Alright fine. I’m only telling you ‘cause I’m worried about him too.”

Virgil shifts to sit cross-legged on the cushion and face Logan. “Patton, he...doesn’t really talk to his dad openly about personal stuff. I’ve been trying to convince him to, but I guess he’s afraid to talk about it? I dunno. I think he pressures himself too much to be like Emile. It can be tough having a therapist for a parent. Maybe Patton’s just scared of being psychoanalyzed or whatever.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t really know. Patton doesn’t really talk about his feelings a lot unless they’re positive feelings. I worry about that a lot. Worst part is that I have no one to talk about it with. So, like...it kind of feels nice to talk about it with you.”

Logan taps his chin. “Hm. Repression can be unhealthy for him. But I understand now why he has his tendencies to ‘fix’ conflicts within the group.”

“Oh, that? He just doesn’t like it when we fight,” Virgil shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

Logan sighs. “Right. Nonetheless, I’m satisfied with what I’ve learned.”

“Cool.” Virgil bites the edge of his thumb. “Don’t tell anyone what I said.”

He nods. 

Remus reemerges and calls them both down to the den where he helps Virgil set up the dock of his Nintendo Switch. Logan watches as they take a controller each and continue the game from where they left off from before.

Logan, who has never heard of _Cuphead_ , is alarmed the entire time that he watches the two curse and yell and throw pillows in frustration from dying over and over again in each level.

“I thought games are supposed to be fun?” He mumbles to himself.

After a few hours, the two decide to quit the game, visibly drained from successfully completing just two levels. They lie sprawled all over the couch to recover their energies. Amid the silence, Logan can hear Roman rehearsing from a distance.

“What do you like to do for fun?” Virgil asks him, lazily lifting his head to look at him.

“Read,” Logan replies simply.

“Of course.”

“Don’t even bother, Virgie,” Remus says, picking his nose with his pinky finger. “I’ve asked him everything I could. What we see is what we get: a token nerd.”

“Well,” Logan says, turning his nose upwards with indignation. “Perhaps you’re merely asking the wrong questions.”

Remus whistles. “I think he’s challenging us.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Virgil tells him.

“But satisfaction brought it back,” Logan continues the adage.

This makes Remus laugh out loud. “Finally, someone who knows the whole quote! You’re a boy after my heart, Lo-Lo.”

Virgil chuckles in disbelief. “It’s amazing that you haven’t chased him away yet, Dukey.”

“I dunno about you, but I think he actually likes me,” he whispers in glee.

Logan cocks his head. “Dukey? Is that what people call you because of Roman’s nickname?”

“It’s what he calls himself _precisely_ because of Roman’s nickname,” Virgil responds.

“I see. Self-deprecating humor.”

“Keep hanging with us two and you’ll hear a _ton_ of that,” Remus says with a roll of his eyes.

“Bold of you to assume he’d want to spend another minute more hanging out with our miserable asses,” Virgil quips.

“He can handle _me_ , I’m not sure if he can handle the Emo Lord of Darkness.”

“You’re right. I concede to that.”

Logan clears his throat. “On the contrary, I find myself at ease with you both—more than the rest, that is. You two are the least confusing and emotional out of everyone.”

Remus sits up straight, gasping, and clutches his chest dramatically. “Do my ears deceive me? Virgil, we’ve been chosen!”

Virgil makes a half-hearted fist bump into the air.

“It’s just my honest thoughts after a month in your company. Roman and Patton’s combined energies are exhausting to keep up with and Janus, well...” Logan shudders after recalling their conversation at the auditorium. “He’s quite an enigma.”

“Oh believe us when we say _samesies_ about Ro and Pat as the ones who hang out the most with them,” Remus snorts with a wave of his hand.

“Janus an enigma, huh?” Virgil muses. “You can say that again.”

“Oh, c’mon, V. Just ‘cause your bestie’s scared of him doesn’t mean you should hate him too,” Remus tells him, bemused.

Virgil moves to sit upright. “I don’t ‘hate’ him. He unsettles me. Like he’s got skeletons in his attic or a basement where he prepares for the rise of the undead.”

“That’s my shtick!” Remus says in mock offense. “Oh, Logan, you gotta hear this story. So, there was this time we all went down to Arcade City and Janus joked that he didn’t need to bring pennies ‘cause he brought a screwdriver. At least, we _thought_ it was a joke. Man, if you only saw everyone’s faces when he appeared out of nowhere with a bucketload of tickets!”

Logan gapes at Remus. “Did he really?”

“The thing is, no one saw him do it and no one could find the alleged screwdriver,” Virgil continues. “Dude totally got away with it! I mean, he got banned for life, but yeah.”

“It was the coolest shit I’ve ever seen!” Remus says. “Sometimes I think he should be _my_ best friend! Ugh, why does Roman have to be so stingy?”

“Because you two wouldn’t last a week before getting thrown to jail.”

“I would be wounded by that accusation if it wasn’t so true.”

Virgil rolls his eyes at Remus before landing a soft punch on Logan’s shoulder. “You know, it’s cool that you’re a part of the group now, L. I can’t handle these chaotic fools on my own.”

Logan feels himself light up at the expression of gratitude. “I’m very pleased that you recognize my efforts.”

Virgil smiles with amusement and glances over to Remus. “Logan’s my new second favorite.”

“Fuck you, hoe.” Remus jumps off the couch and stands in front of the two. “Well, now that we’re seconds away from a hot and steamy threesome, I am officially christening our weird subgroup with a name. How does ‘The Secret Society of Misfits’ sound?”

“You had me at Misfits, Dukey.”

“What say you, Sherlock?”

Remus and Virgil stare at Logan expectantly. 

Logan nods and says, “Satisfactory.”

The Secret Society of Misfits. Somehow, Logan feels like he’s been keeping a lot of secrets these days.


	13. The Laundromat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Virgil ends up alone on a Sunday morning with someone he least expected.

Virgil protects himself with secrets. He keeps himself closely-guarded with walls and a sour attitude to keep people from finding out things about him that will reveal the kind of person he really is.

He blames it on his upbringing; his father always told him to always double-check the locks of the house if he’s the last one to leave, to learn self-defense in case he ever gets abducted on the street, and to never go with strangers even if they seem nice and have a bag of candy.

Virgil finds it ironic that, when he turned ten, it’s his own father who runs off with a complete stranger who _maybe_ seemed nice and had a bag of cash instead of candy.

He and Remy have been living alone with their mom and her many different boyfriends through the years, some of whom were good to them but not enough for her, and some of whom were not good to them at all.

Meanwhile, Virgil is unable to say anything about it as the lone dependent in the household. Remy sustains themself with a job at a cafe near a local university and only seldomly provides Virgil additional allowance when they feel like it. Anyway, Virgil doesn’t like asking money from Remy—or whomever Sugar Daddy they got it from.

Virgil blames his upbringing for his lack of trust in people. He doesn’t trust them when they say they’ll stay in his life forever. He doesn’t trust them when they say they’ll be back before dinnertime but boards an expensive car with luggages in tow. He doesn’t trust them when they say they’ll love him as if he’s their own kid but can’t even get Remy’s pronouns right. He doesn’t trust all good things to last—like his favorite TV shows, the nice autumn weather, his lavender-scented soy candle, his paint, and the goddamn washing machine at home.

Which brings him to where he is now, at 7:45 on a Sunday morning, on his way to the nearest Laundromat because his mom got a stain on her skimpy red dress which she needs for her “fancy Italian dinner date tonight” with her new boyfriend of the month and that he should do this for her because, and he quotes, “he’s the one, baby, I’m sure of it!” just like she says with every other boyfriend she’s brought home with her.

And yet _she’s_ the one who broke the washer a couple of months ago and just couldn’t be fucked to buy a new one while she’s wallowing in her pit of self-pity after seeing her no-good ex-husband spending vacation at the beaches of Miami with his other kids instead of sending over his share of Virgil’s monthly allowance, and pathetically trying her hardest to one-up him by indulging in luxuries with other men. 

And here is Virgil getting punished for it, trudging through the autumn cold with bags of dirty laundry because Remy is too shit-faced from their Saturday night out with college teens to drive him to the nearest Laundromat which, as Virgil just finds out, is closed for some god-forsaken reason, which means he now has to walk a few more blocks to the next.

This is not how he would have liked his early Sunday morning to go. In fact, he thinks it would be a lot more bearable if he had gone out past lunchtime, when the discordant sounds of the city could block out the noise inside his own head and his attention would be focused on the cars and people passing him by instead of empty streets and blinking traffic lights and making sure no one will jump out at him from the corner with a gun or, worse, a flyer to some unknown organization or charity he should learn about if he “could give them just five minutes of his time, please?” But nope, he has to do it at the crack of dawn because mom wants _that_ particular red dress instead of all the other dresses in her goddamn closet.

No, early weekend mornings are _not_ Virgil’s favorite. One would think that it would be, as someone who tried to avoid crowds as much as possible. But if he was being honest, this situation is less than ideal; a lot of things can happen at 8 in the morning on a weekend when the city has yet to wake—especially at a Laundromat. An armed man can barge in and rob the money from the cash register, or a hungover teen can barf their insides beside your foot, or an old woman can try to spark idle conversation that you won’t be able to weasel out of because the dryer is taking its sweet ass time.

All these are possibilities that Virgil would absolutely _hate_ to be in. Fortunately, none have happened to him in the past weeks he’s done his laundry errands but anything can happen. It’s always best to keep your guard up, especially when he’s about to enter an unfamiliar establishment far from the place he frequents. Who knows what kind of patrons it attracts in this part of town?

He walks through the doors with caution and heaves a sigh when he sees it completely empty save for one person staring pensively at the spinning washers. He stops short when he realizes that he knows the person in question.

“Janus?” Virgil calls, approaching him. Janus whips his head around in surprise. Virgil notes the bags under his eyes, his unusually disheveled hair, and the brown parka coat he had on concealing his slightly faded pajamas.

A mix of emotions flashes across Janus’s face for a split second before he settles with a look of intrigue. “This is a long way from your house, stormcloud.”

Virgil gives him a puzzled look. Janus glances down at his shirt and Virgil realizes that he’s wearing his black tee with a thundercloud made of purple patchwork.

“The one I usually go to is closed for the day,” he mumbles. “This was the closest one.”

“You often do your laundry at this hour? I never took you for an early riser.”

“I’m not. So you can tell how happy I am to be here.”

Virgil begins to load his family’s clothes inside the washers next to Janus’s and hopes that they work well. He has favorites in the other Laundromat—numbers 14, 15, and 16 that are placed right at the corner, not because they are far from the door but because he feels in his gut that they work the best—but seeing as his friend has already chosen his own set of washers, Virgil has to submit to the common courtesy of taking the ones nearby so that they can, well, “hang” or whatever.

Virgil hasn’t ever been in a situation where he has to be alone with Janus for an extended period of time and it dawns on him that he doesn’t know Janus all that well despite him joining their little group a couple of years back. He wonders if it’s because he knows Janus and Patton are often at odds even in the simplest of things, like how they take their morning coffee or what kind of TV shows they think are cool, and Virgil, no matter what, will side with Patton—because he was his friend first. But it would be unfair of him to lay the blame on Patton when it’s obvious why he keeps his distance from Janus.

Janus is unreadable. Even now, as Virgil carefully turns the clothes inside-out and double-checks their tags, he can see Janus watching him with an unreadable expression. And there’s nothing that bothers Virgil more than someone he can’t read. It means that he always needs to watch what he does or what he says in fear of doing or saying the wrong thing and, in a similar way, watch his back to make sure that he isn’t going to be stabbed with a knife when his guard is down.

It’s also unnerving that, among everyone in the group, it’s them both who tend to quietly observe the rest. What kind of conversation can one even expect to happen between two people who don’t initiate it in the first place? Every minute that passes in silence makes Virgil’s fingers tremble more and more.

To make matters worse, he just reached the part of the laundry bag where his mom’s colorful assortment of delicates is placed. He takes them out, one by one, fighting a blush that spreads violently all over his cheeks when he sees a growing smirk on Janus’s face.

“Nice lingeries,” he teases.

Virgil sarcastically responds, “Thanks, I’ll let Remy know.”

Janus stops mid-chuckle. “You can’t be serious.”

Virgil crumples his face. “Ugh, no. Remy would never—” he pauses. “You know what? They definitely would.”

Janus looks away, blushing. “That’s an image I’ll forever be haunted by.”

Virgil lets out a whine of disgust and feels the tension leave his body. “Gross. If you ever fantasize about Remy, I don’t ever want to know.”

“Duly noted.”

When Virgil is done measuring the detergent and starting the machines, he slides onto the floor with his back against the dryer directly across. After a few seconds, Janus eases himself next to Virgil, stretching out his legs.

“How’s the show coming along?” Virgil asks. He knows that they’ve already asked Janus and Roman that a few days ago, but it’s the only topic he could think of at the moment for their small talk.

“Wonderfully,” Janus answers simply with a tinge of weariness. “There’s no room for imperfection with Roman around, after all.”

“As expected of Sir Sing-a-Lot,” Virgil says. “Are you really not going to spill what it’s about.”

“Believe me, I’d _love_ to tell you, but I am bound by my word to Roman not to say so as to not ‘ruin the surprise,’ as he puts it.” Janus rolls his eyes. “But if you’re _that_ curious, I don’t mind sharing. Name your price.”

Virgil sneers. “Everything always needs to have a price with you.”

Janus shrugs. “Nothing in life is free, doll.”

Virgil thinks of a retort but catches the far-off look in Janus’s eyes. And it chills Virgil’s spine how he’s never seen Janus up close like this before, catching on to the tiny flecks of emotion that doesn’t show his usual arrogance, irritability, or deviousness. There is depth in Janus’s personality that Virgil has yet to know and he’a almost certain that the others have yet to too.

After all, Virgil is a boy with secrets. And it takes a closely-guarded person to know that another person is the same.

He blows on his bangs and grunts. “Fine, what do you want?”

Janus shifts in his seat to face Virgil. “Juicy secrets.”

Virgil makes a face. “What, why?”

“You know I love gossip.”

“Seems a bit much just to know the plot of your play.”

“Fine, it doesn’t have to be your secret. Tell me something I don’t know.”

Virgil curses at himself. The trap was laid before his eyes and he walked right into it. How careless could he be to mistakenly let his guard down like that?

“Wow, your thoughts are so loud that I can hear them,” Janus remarks. “You’re overthinking this, aren’t you?”

Virgil warily watches Janus lean further back against the dryer behind him. “Relax, sunshine. I’m not asking you to reveal your tragic backstory. Just need something to laugh at right now.”

Virgil lets out a breath and says, “Well, I can tell you one about Princey, I guess.”

Janus’s brow quirks in curiosity.

“In sixth grade, he gave me a valentine card he made himself. It was folded in half with what should have been a sparkly heart inside. But he used too much glue and not a lot of glitter and the card wouldn’t open, so I had no idea who it was from. I showed it to Patton and Remus and him and he was so embarrassed about it, it was ridiculous. He avoided me for, like, a week until Patton made me talk to him. It was the first time I ever had to reject someone. You can’t imagine that pressure, man.”

Janus laughs, shaking his head. “Poor Prince Charming.”

Virgil laughs along. “Anyway, there. You’re free to tease him all you want. Pretty sure he’s never sent a valentine card since.”

“Oh, I’m definitely bringing it up, now that I’ve discovered you two have history.”

“Yeah, thank _fuck_ he found you. Now I feel less awkward.”

“‘Found me.’ What am I, a doggie bone?” Janus scoffs. “And Roman and I are just friends.”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Sure, Jan.”

Janus makes a noncommittal hum. “Anyway, I’m sure you’re interested to hear about the play now.”

“Nice try, but I’ve lost interest,” Virgil admits. “How about _you_ tell me something I don’t know.”

Janus smirks. “Oh, really now?”

Virgil shrugs. “I like gossip too.”

Janus doesn’t believe that for a second but relents. “Okay then.” He shoves his hands inside his jacket pockets. “But you have to ask the question.”

Virgil squints his eyes. He can’t help but feel impressed by how Janus is such a professional in effortlessly turning the tables around for his benefit. Virgil thinks that maybe he should get some pointers out of Janus’s handbook. “Fine,” he says, before giving it a thought. “Okay, what do you _really_ do during lunch period?”

“Make out with closeted jocks underneath the bleachers.”

Virgil’s eyes widen.

“I’m _joking_. They only wish they could. Why do you want to know?”

“Well, you had me ask a question and that’s all my sleep-deprived brain can think of that I actually care to know the answer to.”

“You care about me? That’s cute.” 

Virgil flips him off and Janus chuckles before answering, “It isn’t as scandalous as you might have hoped, but I just stay at the library. Catch up on homework, rehearse my script, gaze at handsome seniors fretting about college entrance exams even though they’re too stupid to enter one anyway...”

Virgil snorts. “You really like the idiots, huh?”

“They’re so adorably pitiful that you can’t help but smother them,” Janus replies, check his nails. 

“Are you sure it isn’t to feel superior?”

“Oh, honey, you got me. I _love_ manipulating single brain-celled twits to indulge my every whim.”

Janus’s washers stop and he begins unloading his wet garments to transfer them to the dryers. Janus’s movements are swift and precise, as though he’s been doing this for years—or way longer than Virgil has, at least. Virgil also notices the many shirts included in Janus’s load that don’t seem to be his, and he can only infer that they belong to Janus’s father.

Virgil doesn’t know much about Janus’s dad, only enough to know that he’s not all that great. And it kind of gives Virgil a feeling of kinship and, somehow, comfort to know that he isn’t the only one in the group with lame parents. As much as he hates to admit it, he is actually tempted to open up a bit, to tear down his wall and lower his guard, and indulge in a quick rant about his home situation to someone who will be able to empathize with him. Not that Patton has not done so whenever Virgil confides in him, but Patton won’t ever really _get_ him. And Virgil, for the most part, just wants someone who does.

And so he opens the floodgates a little.

“How do you cope? You know, with your dad not...being around sometimes? And not accepting your sexuality?” His voice is low and cautious, wary of stepping on a landmine where he shouldn’t tread.

“How do I cope?” Janus repeats as he closes the door of the dryer and fishes for change inside his pockets. “Well, when you don’t have much say on the situation, you just _do_. And I’m an excellent actor, doll. I’m getting by fine.”

It’s true, Virgil thinks. Despite everything, Janus seems so well put-together. That’s what makes them different—Virgil will sooner unravel at the seams from his mess of a family than admit to anyone that he’s struggling day by day. Janus is an open book; he’ll tell it straight to your face what’s going on with him. But you’ll never be able to tell what he’s really feeling. He’s unreadable and frustratingly smug about it, but you’ll find yourself wishing you could be like that too.

“It’s just... it just sucks that everyone else is probably still sleeping or having awesome breakfasts at home, and yet we’re both here at 8:30 in the fucking morning in our pajamas on a weekend doing our family’s laundry.”

Janus snorts but doesn’t respond. He finishes inserting his change into the dryer and props himself against the washer this time, facing Virgil. “I don’t know. I assumed you enjoyed washing your mother’s lingeries for her.”

Virgil laughs. “She’s a...” The word dies on Virgil’s tongue. No matter how much animosity he bears for her, he doesn’t think he’ll ever call her such a degrading thing, not even in jest.

“Not a fan of her, apparently?”

Virgil bites down the corner of his thumb. “She’s... she can be...” He glances at Janus who watches him with a sympathetic gaze. He grunts. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s me. Or if it’s Remy. Or if it’s the both of us that mom really blames for dad leaving her for some young socialite. Pretty sure feels like it, every time she tells us to ‘not be like _that_ ’ when her new boyfriend comes by. And although it doesn’t bother me anymore, it stinks that I don’t have a mom who can cook awesome meals, and it stinks seeing dad doing stuff we used to do, or never did do, with his new perfect little kids. Like, how come we weren’t enough?” Virgil huffs in anger. “But then I realize that he’s just a fucking prick who should be glad I quit doing voodoo.”

Janus tilts his head. “Voodoo.”

“Shut up.” Virgil hisses at him. “I can’t help but sometimes wish that I had someone like Dr. Emile. Or Valerie. Shit, even Logan has parents who are still together.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, it’s a stupid thought.”

Janus is quiet for a moment before he sighs. “Can’t say that I _can’t_ relate.”

Virgil sighs and pulls the ends of his jacket sleeves. “You always seem to have an answer to everything. Tell me this: how do kids like us _not_ end up as messed up adults from coping with neglectful parents?”

Janus hums. Then, in a rare display of sincere honesty, he tells Virgil, “Who’s to say? But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that when the chips are down, we humans will do whatever we can to survive.”

Virgil stares at Janus for a long time when he says that, letting the strange words sink in. Janus looks at him and smirks. “Wanna hear a joke? What do you call a pigeon that can’t find its way back home?”

“What?”

Janus tilts his head and shrugs. “A pigeon.”

Virgil says nothing.

“We’ve lost the lottery of life, you and I,” Janus tells him.

Virgil draws his knees close to his chest. “Yeah. Guess we aren’t that different after all.”

For the next 10 minutes, the two settle into a comfortable silence with nothing but the whirring of machines and distant sounds of the city waking up lulling them to a brief sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to put it out there that I loved writing this chapter so much.
> 
> Also, thank you to everyone who's been sending their love for this story so far! I appreciate every single one of you. It might take a while to post the next chapter because I'm fleshing the whole story out so that I don't miss any details in each chapter (I've actually written 30 so far so...buckle up! It's gonna be a looooong ride, because sh*t's definitely, DEFINITELY hitting the fan in the next update.)
> 
> \--
> 
> Also, a note: Remy in this AU is much older, past their 20s.


	14. Won't Say I'm...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Remus and Roman get into a fight, and tons of cursing happens.

Remus bounces through the front door, sipping on his large cup of bubble tea, when he finds Roman tapping away with concentration on his laptop.

He jumps over the couch, settling himself down next to his brother with a loud belch, before asking: “Watchadoin?”

“I was—wait, you bought boba and didn’t even get me one?!”

“You’re lactose-intolerant, stupid. You went home from Shelby’s that one Saturday and spent the whole night in the bathroom.”

“Hah, like that would ever stop me,” Roman scoffs. “Anyway, you arrived just in time. Which of these do you think Janus would like more?”

Remus chokes on a boba pearl and sputters, “Hold up, what the fuck are these?” He stares at Roman’s laptop screen with wide eyes. “For _J-Anus_?”

Roman blinks at him in confusion. “What? It’s his birthday soon.”

“Uhm, are you asking him to be your husband?!” Remus says, gesturing wildly at Roman’s list of gift ideas. “Bitch, no one buys their _friend_ these kinds of gifts you’re planning to give.”

“Okay, maybe they’re a little extra—”

“Ro, we’ve been friends with Patton for far longer than Janus and you’ve never gotten him this type of shit.”

Roman scoffs. “Okay, _rude_! I’ll just decide on my own then!”

Remus flips the laptop screen closed and puts it and his drink on top of the coffee table. “Alright, level with me here, bro. What is _really_ going on between you and Janny Dean?”

Roman groans in exasperation. “Rem, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Like, do you hope to call the bitch your boyfriend one day?”

“This again? I am not having this conversation.”

Remus puts on a serious look and reaches out to hold Roman’s wrist. “Would you at least listen to what I have to say?”

Roman sighs and nods.

“You know how you used to tell me everything?” Remus begins. “When we were 7, and you caught a bird in the front yard and accidentally snapped its neck, you came crying to me and I said to give it a proper burial? Or when you told me one night that you got a tiny crush on Virgil and made me swear not to say anything about it? And I didn’t, even when you gave him that epic fail of a valentine card.” He chuckles. “I was there when you cried a bit after he rejected you too—remember what I told you then?”

Roman purses his lips. “That I shouldn’t waste my feelings on somebody who doesn’t like me back because, one day, I’ll find the _second_ most handsome prince—because I already am the most handsome one.”

“And that bitch is gonna be as gay as a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide.” Remus lets out a laugh, before his lips twist and he casts his eyes downward in hesitation over what he’s about to say next.

“When you started hanging out with Janus, you just stopped telling me things,” he says quietly. “Ro, you can pretend to everyone else but I don’t get why you’d do the same with me. I’ve always kept your secrets. Just tell me the truth.”

Remus gazes at Roman with an earnestness that Roman had never seen before. It was like looking at a mirror for the first time and seeing Remus not as himself, but as a reflection of what Roman is—honest, open, and just a little bit terrified. It’s a strange sight to behold and, for a moment, he could feel gnawing guilt well up inside his chest. But it’s not enough to soften the blow of what he decides to say next.

“What’s upsetting is that you think I’m lying to you when I’ve been perfectly clear that there’s _nothing_ between me and Janus.” Roman retracts his hand and runs it through his hair in aggravation. “There never was! You wonder why I haven’t been opening up to you? It’s because you’re always _insinuating_ these kinds of things. Like... you can’t pressure me to assess my feelings for someone, especially when that _someone_ is my best friend. There’s a lot at risk here.”

He then gulps, dropping his voice low. “When I... _if_ I do end up feeling that spark, I want it to be real. I want it to come from _me_. Not because you or anyone tells me to. Janus is...” he bites his bottom lip. “He means a lot to me as a friend. I can’t fuck this up, Rem. So, I would appreciate it if you would just back off and, I dunno, focus on your weird art projects or something.”

Remus, throughout the rant, gapes at Roman with an incredulous expression, processing his twin’s words until he lets out a howling laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Roman demands.

“Are you being fucking serious?” Remus retorts. “I’ve been nothing but supportive, and this is the thanks I get?”

“Supportive? More like insistent.” Roman rolls his eyes. “Do you even know how awkward it gets when you call him my ‘boyfriend’ in front of people?”

“ _Everyone_ thinks that!” Remus throws his arms up in anger. “Holy shit, if you really don’t like him then why aren’t you fucking around with other people like a normal person? There are a whole bunch of other gay kids in our school, and you expect me to believe you want to keep your virginity intact because what? They don’t match your standards, your Highness? Don’t blame me when it’s crystal clear that you’re just a huge pussy who’s scared of being rejected by the _one person_ who actually likes stroking your ego so you’d stop feeling so sad about your stupid self!”

“I resent that accusation!” Roman shouts back. “I’m not scared! You just can’t admit to yourself that I’m no longer your ‘sad baby brother’ and that I don’t need your help anymore!”

A deep scowl forms on Remus’s face and he turns away, biting the inside of his cheeks until blood seeps through. “Had I known that me wanting you to be with the guy who _obviously_ makes you happy would get all this sand in your _fucking_ vagina, then maybe I would have just kept my mouth shut.”

Roman grunts loudly, planting his face onto his palms. “You are incorrigible!”

“Hey, on second thought: silver lining! Maybe _I_ should ask Janus out!” Remus grins wickedly. “I mean, it’s not like you’re _into_ him or anything!”

“Did you even understand what I just said, or was it hard to get through your thick skull?”

“Hear ya loud and clear, broham!” Remus swipes his milk tea off the table and jumps to his feet. “But when you’ve realized just how much of a dipshit you are, don’t come crying to me!”

Roman glares at him. “Fine!”

Remus sticks out his tongue. “Fine!”

“ _Qué te den!_ ”

“ _Gilipollas!_ ” Remus stomps away for a few steps before he pauses, spins around, and says, “Get the pin, fuckface! It looks hella cool and he’ll love that shit!”

“Fine!”

“You’re welcome!”

“Go away!”

“Fuck you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, I wonder what Roman was looking at...


	15. Sorry for the Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Remus bakes a cake with Patton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on Instagram and Twitter! @reseaseo :)

Patton gazes forlornly at Remus slouched over on the kitchen table, uncharacteristically quiet. Remus had asked to stay over for a while after class and Patton had been more than happy to spend time with him, especially when it’s been a while since they’ve had—just them, alone. 

Remus spared no time telling everything to Patton and expressing his pent-up frustration over the situation, over Roman, and over himself until there was nothing left to feel but self-loathing and guilt.

Patton is used to mediating disagreements and tantrums between the twins ever since they were six and, even now, he’s been Remus’s go-to person to rant to without inhibition. It’s always an iteration of “He’s so full of himself!” or “He’s dumb as fuck!” or “It’s not my fault he’s shitting up a storm ‘cause he drank my bottle of chocolate milk from the fridge that I opened two weeks ago and completely forgot about!”

All Patton ever needed to do on those occasions was listen, cheer Remus up, and assure him that Roman isn’t going to be mad at him forever. It always works; after all, the twins never get into a fight so bad that they launch a civil war. Patton credits that mostly to the fact that Remus never lets it happen—he cares too much for Roman, more than he would ever admit, and would always be the first to apologize.

Because of it, Patton rarely worries. He listens to Remus and shrugs it off, knowing the problem will fix itself in no time. But right now, seeing Remus looking so defeated, he can’t help but feel anxious that this isn’t something that can be solved and forgotten the minute Remus tells Roman that he’s sorry. And it won’t be because Roman wouldn’t accept it (Patton is sure he will) but because Remus, deep inside his heart, is nursing an ache that cannot be shaken. 

“He doesn’t hate you, Remus,” Patton tells him sweetly, twiddling his thumbs together.

“You don’t have to tell me lies to make me feel better, Pat,” Remus groans, his face still planted against his forearms. “Just do us all a favor and sever my head off with a chainsaw.”

“I will do no such thing! And you didn’t do anything wrong. Roman just needs some time to work things out on his own.” Patton taps Remus’s shoulder. “And you’ll be there to support him when he finally does!”

“I just never knew that I was pressuring him! It’s not like a meant to. I’ve just been egging him on to show him that I _want_ them together because even a blind bat could see how they’re both so stupidly in love!”

“Hmm... but Roman said he isn’t, though.”

“I can feel it, Pat. It’s Twin ESP or something. He can’t hide that shit from me, even if he tried.” Remus lifts his head slightly to peek at Patton. “You can’t tell me that you don’t see it too.”

Patton hums. “Well, they _are_ very close. But my pop taught me to never assume, ‘cause that makes an AS out of SU and ME!”

“Patton, you’re adorable and sometimes I wanna kiss you if only I didn’t respect our boundaries,” Remus says as he leans his back on the chair he is sitting on. “But the only asses here are those two for not admitting how badly they want to shove each other’s tongues down the other’s mouth.”

Patton cringes at the resentment in Remus’s voice. “So, you think we should do something to help him realize his feelings for Janus?”

Remus shakes his head violently. “No, if he doesn’t hate me now, he probably will if we started meddling. Ugh, why can’t the bitch just grow some balls?”

Patton clears his throat and looks at Remus with a reproachful gaze.

“Sorry,” Remus mutters. “I meant grow some _scrotum_.”

“Well, what do you think Janus feels?”

“Janus? Probably waiting for Roman to _grow that fucking scrotum_.”

“Remus!” 

Remus bangs his head on the table and lets out a muffled wail. Patton bites his lip in distress, wracking his brain to come up with an idea to help Remus feel better. He glances at his oven and beams. “Hey, I know what will cheer you up, Rem!”

“Jumping out of a moving car?”

“No!” Patton bounces over to his kitchen counter. “Baking a cake! We can make one and give it to Ro-Ro as your apology gift. What do you say?”

“OMG.” Remus sits up straight with wide eyes. “We can douse it with love potion. Patty, you’re a genius!”

“N-no, just a normal cake. With vanilla and frosting!”

“Oh.” Remus’s shoulders sag in disappointment.

“Oh, come now. We may not be able to put in love potion, but we’ll still be putting lots of love in it!” Patton brings out the springform pans and oven mitts.

“ _Fine_ ,” Remus drawls out with a groan. “Where do we start?”

It is 7:30 in the evening when the front door of the Picani household swings open, and Dr. Emile steps inside with his bag and a thick folder of papers on his arms.

He sniffs the air and smiles at the scent of freshly baked bread, chocolate ganache, and vanilla. But as he steps inside the kitchen to greet his little baker, he stops short and stares at the complete mess all over the counters, the floor, and, curiously, the walls.

“Sufferin’ succotash!” he exclaims with a pretend lisp. “What happened here?”

Remus, who is about to shove a handful of sprinkles inside his already full mouth, murmurs, “Busted...”

“Hi, dad!” Patton greets, wiping the flour off his cheek. “Sorry for the mess...”

“It’s perfectly alright, kiddos! As long as the house hasn’t burned down, keep up that creative chaos.” Emile walks over to them. “Is that a cake? Whose un-birthday is it?”

Patton and Remus look down at the weird wreck of a cake that is sitting on top of a plate. “Roman’s,” Patton says. “Supposedly.”

“Maybe he won’t notice how horrible it looks if we slap it with tons of marshmallows,” Remus suggests grimly.

“It’s... not so bad,” Emile tells them. “If every porkchop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hotdogs.”

“And Roman _loves_ hotdogs.” Remus winks at Patton who tilts his head in confusion.

Emile hoists up the folders that have started to slip from his grip. “Are you staying over for dinner, kiddo? I could order take-out.”

“Nah, don’t sweat it, doc. I’ll head home with this monstrosity in a jif.”

“And I’ll clean up the kitchen!” Patton pipes in.

Emile sighs with relief. “Thank you, Patton. Boy, today was a doozy. Hope you’ll be able to clear things up with your brother, Remus. As Uncle Iroh from _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ says, ‘It's not always what you say that matters, sometimes it's what you don't say.’” He pauses. “Or was that from Mr. Krabs? I think I need to sit down for a bit…”

Remus and Patton watch Emile leave before they cringe at the cake they’ve made.

“I guess I do need a Pat- _ton_ of practice,” Patton murmurs with embarrassment.

Remus shrugs. “Yeah, but the important thing is that it’s edible. I mean, look at me. I’m ugly as fuck but you can still get a bite of this.”

Patton laughs and starts picking up the dirty bowls to put them down in the sink.

“So Pattycake, why are you learning how to bake anyway?”

“Uhm,” he starts. “I was thinking of starting an after-school job soon and found a nice pastry place owned by a super sweet lady. So I’m trying to learn some skills beforehand!”

“Work? Ugh, booooring,” Remus groans, gathering the flour that’s on top of the table into one line with his ID.

“No job is boring when you enjoy it!”

“The only job worth taking is a blowjob.” Remus takes out his phone and hands it over to Patton. “Hey, take a pic of me pretending to snort this.”

“Alright!” Patton takes the phone and pauses. “ _Wait_ , this isn’t a reference to something naughty, is it?”

“Babe, I'm surprised you'd even ask that.”

Patton happily takes a few photos of Remus. When they’re done, Remus takes a handful of the flour and places it on top of Patton’s head, smoothening it out until his hair is speckled with white. “Now we’re hair twins!”

This makes Patton laugh. “I really missed hanging out with you, Rem!”

“Aww, that’s sweet. Me too!” He nudges Patton with his elbow. “Even if Roman’s always been your favorite.”

Patton gasps at that. “That’s not true! I love you both equally!”

“It’s okay, Pat. Roman was always the lovable crybaby we loved to smother back then—pretty sure he still is.”

“But I loved how you were always so fun and adventurous when we played together.” Patton reaches out for Remus’s hand. “In that aspect, you’re my favorite playmate.”

“I’m so touched,” Remus says, sniffling. “You’ll always be my first crush, Patty.”

“Aww, you’re making me blush!”

Remus helps Patton clean up the mess in the kitchen before saying goodbye at the door, the deformed pastry sitting on a plate on his hands, and walking back home.

Once he gets there, Valerie’s head pokes out from the dining room door frame. “Hi, honey. _Que tal?_ ”

Remus shrugs. “Eh. _Estoy_.”

“Well, you’re just in time for dinner if that cheers you up.”

“Cool,” Remus replies, setting the cake down on the table, earning a look of curiosity from his mother.

“Did you and Patton make that?”

“Yup and it’s fucking shit.”

“Oh, don’t say that!” she says with uncertainty. “It’s…artistic!”

Remus groans, dropping his head low. “Of course you’d say that, you’re my mother. It’s supposed to be for Roman—that is if he doesn’t barf before actually tasting it.”

“Oh, dear, that’s sweet of you.” Valerie strokes Remus’s head comfortingly. “Hold on, did you two get into a fight?”

“Take a wild guess.” Remus wrinkles his nose. “Ugh, feelings suck.”

“He’ll love it baby.” She kisses the top of his head. “I’m so happy that your father and I raised two sweet and loving boys who never let fights between them last.”

A pain pinches Remus’s chest at the mention of his father and his eyes gaze downwards. “Yeah... Dad always told me to take care of Roman. But ever since he left, I—” he balls his hands into tight fists. “I can’t get _anything_ right. Being the kind of person Ro-Ro needs, my science experiment with Logan, and-and this stupid cake!”

Valerie hushes him and strokes his back. “I miss your father every day too, baby. But you don’t have to be so hard on yourself. You’re already doing so much.”

Remus huffs but doesn’t refute what his mother said. Valerie purses her lips and decides to change the subject.

“That said, I hope there isn’t tons of sugar in that icing.” She pats Remus’s arm. “You know what that does to your teeth!”

Remus leans his chin on his palm. “You know that Ro-Ro drinks milkshakes and desserts behind your back on the weekends, right?”

“He does?” Valerie rubs her temples. “ _Ay dios mio_ , Roman. Anyway, call your brother for dinner.”

“Mmkay.”

Remus drags his feet up the stairs towards Roman’s room, which is much farther down the hall than his own on account of the fact that Roman staked claim of their childhood joint bedroom when they decided to split up for privacy’s sake because it was bigger, which Remus didn’t mind at all. After all, Remus didn’t like having too big of a bed just for himself, frightened to be reminded every day of his crippling loneliness.

“Hey, fart face, dinner’s ready!” He yells as he nears the room. He stops short when he notices the door slightly cracked open and hears Roman speaking on the phone.

“—frustrating, you know? I want to do it right, and I’m trying so hard, but why do I keep messing up?”

Roman pauses to listen to the person on the other end of the line. “Yeah, I know. But I’m terrified that I’ll fuck up at the last minute... oh, come on, do you really think that would help? ...haha, yeah, as if you would do anything like that.”

For some reason, Remus stays where he is, eavesdropping on Roman’s conversation.

“Omg, you’re too extra... ugh, bitch, please! Okay, okay, fine, you’re right, you’re always right! Jesus Christ Superstar...” Roman laughs. “I hate you. Anyway, I have to go, I think Rem’s calling me.”

Remus jumps in alarm and turns around to head back down. 

“Oh, and Jan?” Remus freezes. “Thanks for always listening to me. I don’t think there’s anyone else I could turn to than you.”

 _Ouch_.

Remus doesn’t stay to hear the rest of the call. He heads down and sits back on his chair, waiting patiently for Roman to come down and join them at the table.

When he does, he does a double-take at the melting mass of icing and sprinkles beside his plate. “What in Zeus’s name is that?”

“Roman, your brother made that for you,” Valerie tells him, clicking her tongue. “Did you have anything to say, Remus?”

The brothers lock eyes for a moment.

“It’s inspired by you,” Remus says. “A gay mess.”

Roman rolls his eyes. “Wow, thanks Remmy. I’m _so_ happy you’re my brother.”

Remus flips him off and starts eating, hoping that no one would catch sight of the small tear in the corner of his eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I say that updates are weekly? Yes, let's go with that.


	16. It All Goes Downhill From Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Virgil witnesses something he shouldn't have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Twitter and IG! @reseaseo

It’s 9 in the evening and Virgil is wondering what he ever did wrong in his life for the gods to put him in the front seat of Remy’s car on a Tuesday with his right hand clutching onto a 20 dollar bill and heading towards the Cinnabon that’s located nearly an hour away from their home because their mom started craving for a cinnamon roll and asked her “sweet darling sons” to pick up a box before handing Virgil some money and shoving them both out the door.

Virgil glares at the street lamps, growling under his breath, “I hate her.”

“Don’t be rude,” Remy tells him. “She probably wanted that dick ASAP and didn’t want us to get in the way. I can totes relate.”

Somehow, the thought of their mom having sex as they speak makes Virgil’s growing migraine worsen. It doesn’t help that Remy’s car is overwhelming his senses with a mix of odors of booze, grass, espresso, nicotine, and Remy’s spray-on deodorant.

“Why is your car so gross?” He whines, earning an indignant huff from his sibling.

“Consider yourself lucky that I cleaned this yesterday, otherwise you would be seeing way more than what your innocent eyes should be, babes.”

Virgil rolls his eyes and brings out his phone. Their group chat just started blowing up with Remus sending tons of memes that Logan unsurprisingly doesn’t understand, which Roman then begins to make fun of him for, sparking yet another squabble between them both. Meanwhile, Patton tries to lighten the conversation with dad jokes and puns and pictures of kittens.

Virgil lets out a chuckle and types a sardonic comment while Remy gives him a sidelong glance.

“How’s your little clique, by the way?” they ask.

“They’re chill,” Virgil replies with a noncommittal shrug.

“You are all, like, so adorable, having movie nights and taking tons of selfies,” Remy coos. “How could a sour shadowling such as yourself be totes lucky to be surrounded by these beautiful gay-bies?”

“I wish I knew.” Virgil wrinkles his nose as he shoves his phone in his pocket. “Don’t jinx it, okay? Who knows, there could be a high chance that we’ll forget that each of us ever existed when we get to college or whatever.”

“Always the Negative Nancy.” Remy quirks a brow, smirking. “I know it when I see it, V. This friendship is as tight as this ass getting two dicks at once.”

Virgil makes a gagging noise and looks out the window. Try as he may, he still finds it hard to believe it. He wants to—so, so badly. But life has a way of disappointing him, of proving him wrong, just when he starts to get his hopes up. He doesn’t trust things to last, and so he hangs on to things he can concretely grasp—like the multitude of photos he has of his favorite things, games, food, and people in his camera roll which he can look back on and treasure forever, even when they eventually disappear from his life.

“Oh, shit,” Remy mutters as they spot a gas station from a distance. “Gimme a sec, I ran out of lighter fluid before we left the house. Want anything?”

“Just a Kit Kat.”

“ _I'm gonna be the snack that smiles back, I'm gonna be the Kit to your Kat_ ,” Remy sings as they park the car in front of the convenience store by the rows of gas pumps. “Remember to lock the doors, babes.”

“You don’t have to remind me, you know I always do,” Virgil quips as Remy steps out, closing the door behind them. Virgil flips the switch and settles down comfortably on his seat, distracting himself by humming a song to push out from his head the wild thoughts of a masked robber or a legion of the undead suddenly appearing out of nowhere to kill him.

 _Nothing’s going to happen. You’re fine. You’ll go to Cinnabon, buy those god-forsaken sticky buns, and get back home safe and sound._ He repeats this over and over in his head to ease his jitters and, for a moment, he succeeds.

Until something catches his attention at the corner of his eye.

Virgil’s heart skips a beat when he spots Janus walking together with a much older man, almost the same age as Remy, and heading towards the diner that had just closed for the night across the gas station where the car is currently parked.

Janus has a grim expression as the man touches his shoulder with a sleazy smile that makes Virgil’s skin crawl.

Terrified that Janus is in trouble, Virgil moves to unbuckle his seatbelt to save him when, out of the shadows from the alleyway beside the diner, a group of other strangers the same age as the man emerge with menacing looks.

Virgil gapes in confusion as Janus turns around to look at his surprised companion with a half-smile before nodding at the group to grab the man and drag him inside the dark street. Only one person remains to hand over a white envelope to Janus, who then pockets it inside his jacket. Without another word, Janus turns on his heel and walks away.

Virgil watches as the person glances left and right before calling out to the others who come back out with...a blood-stained dagger?

 _What the fuck?_ His blood runs cold as he takes a quick photo before the group could manage to board a getaway car that arrives and zips away in a blink of an eye.

He stares at the photo, his hands shaking and his breathing becoming more and more laborious as he remembers Janus’s face, his sullen nod, and the white envelope that he took.

He looks up again and, this time, sees the man staggering out and pressing the wound on his arm that is now stained red and leaving a trail of droplets on the ground. The man looks around, gritting his teeth. Virgil holds his breath when the man stares at Remy’s car for a second, but lets out a deep sigh when he breaks into a run towards the direction he and Janus had come from, disappearing into the corner.

It is then that Remy comes back from the store carrying a large slushie cup and a single bar of Kit Kat. Virgil frantically unlocks the door and Remy jokes, “Oh good, you’re not dead,” as it swings open. They look at Virgil and frown. “Hold on, what’s going on with you?”

“Remy,” Virgil whispers. “Someone just got stabbed in that alleyway.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“I took a photo of the people who did it. Look!”

Remy takes Virgil’s phone and stares at the photo. Their eyes widen slightly. “Shit.”

“He isn’t there anymore, but...” he bites his lip. “I saw Janus take him there. Like he _meant_ to take him there. And I don’t know why.”

Remy says nothing. They return the phone and slowly drive away, past the diner where the crime just took place. “V, I need you to relax and listen to me. I know those people. They go to the university where I work. What did the guy look like? The one you said got stabbed?”

“He’s-he’s, I don’t know, 5 foot 7 with an undercut, a flannel shirt, and a slightly chubby build?” Virgil grips his seatbelt. “Tell me what the fuck’s going on, Remy! I saw Janus take him there and then he left with an envelope when those guys grabbed him!”

“What was that kid doing with those boys...” Remy whispers to themself as they slow to a stop on the side of the road. “Anyway, I don’t want to get involved in this, and neither should you. Trust me, these guys aren’t bad people, but they’re _not_ to be fucked around with. I’m sure there’s a good explanation for whatever you saw, no matter how horrible it looks.”

“Nothing you’re saying is making any fucking sense, Remy! How can people ambushing a guy and stabbing him in the arm have a _good_ explanation? How can I _not_ worry when my friend looked like the ring leader back there?” Virgil feels his whole body numb with every shallow breath. Remy reaches over and strokes his arm.

“I don’t know, babes. But if it’s true what you say about Janus, then I think you need to be wary around him.”

Virgil shuts his eyes tight and Remy starts driving again. They don’t speak for the next hour that they spend together inside the car, even as they reach Cinnabon and buy a dozen rolls and drive back home where Remy will park just a few houses down and smoke on the sidewalk outside waiting for their mother to send a text looking for them.

Within that time frame, Virgil stays silent, picking at the loose threads of his pants and the dry skin on the edges of his nails. He looks back on all the memories he had with Janus—from the moment he sat on their table with a devious smirk to their heart-to-heart on the floor of a laundromat—as he tries to understand what he saw that evening. He thinks about the others—Patton, Logan, Remus, and Roman—wondering what they would say if they had seen it too. Then, he thinks about what Remy had told him and the words repeat like a broken record inside his mind.

Life truly does have a way of disappointing him, of proving him wrong, just when he starts to get his hopes up, just when he starts tearing down his walls to a person he thought he wasn’t so different from.

And the more he thinks about it, the more it becomes clear what he has to do.

Virgil doesn’t trust things to last, but he’s going to do everything he can to protect what he has in the meantime. And it all starts with getting rid of Janus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that escalated quickly.
> 
> -
> 
> Song Remy sings: "the snack that smiles back" by Shawn Wasabi


	17. Nobody Believes Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Virgil does something about what he saw last night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random note, but damn -- the newest Sanders Asides episode was something else huh?

Virgil is a mess. A complete and utterly anxious mess. He can taste blood inside his mouth from biting the inside of his cheeks too hard as he waits at the school parking lot for Roman’s car to come.

When he finally sees it approaching, he hides behind one of the other parked cars to watch Roman, Remus, and Patton step out with their bags and books in tow.

Roman and Remus are keeping a wide berth from one another and Patton trails behind with a spring in his step, and Virgil sees this as an opportunity to dash forward and pull Patton’s arm to drag him away from the twins.

“Whoa—Virgil!” Patton yelps with surprise. “Where are we going?”

Making sure that the twins are out of sight, Virgil lets out a shaky breath. “Patton, I need to tell you about something.”

“Go ahead,” Patton tells him with a worried look.

“It’s...” Virgil bites his lip. “It’s about Janus. I think he’s dangerous.”

“What? Don’t be silly! What makes you say that?”

“I’m not kidding, Pat. I saw him do something really bad last night. Criminal, almost.”

Patton stares at Virgil with wide, frightened eyes. “What did he do?”

“I was out with Remy when I saw him take a man to an empty alleyway where a group of college guys was waiting. Then Janus looked at them like he was letting them take him, and then one of them handed him a white envelope before he left.” Virgil glances around in panic. “I saw the guy get stabbed in the arm! Here.”

Virgil shows Patton the photo of the group on his phone. Patton tilts his head, “Janus isn’t here, though?”

“He left before I could take evidence, but you gotta believe me. I _know_ what I saw.” His voice is steady and sullen now. “If Janus is really working with them, then he’s obviously bad news.”

Patton dismisses the thought. “Okay, I think _someone_ ’s been watching too many true crime documentaries and conspiracy theory videos.”

“What?” Virgil reels back. “You don’t believe me?”

“How can Janus be capable of doing something like that? You must have seen someone else. I think we should just get to class and—”

“No, Patton. He _definitely_ was behind it all.” Virgil grabs Patton’s wrist. “We have to get him away from us. He’s dangerous! Who knows what he might drag us all into!”

Patton looks down at his wrist and at Virgil’s face, trying to process Virgil’s frantic emotions. He shakes his head furiously and pulls away from Virgil’s grip. “You’re overreacting, Virgil! Janus is a good person!”

“You think he’s a _good_ person? Janus, who stole arcade tickets, showed us how to pick locks, and once released a snake during school assembly?”

“Now, those were just pranks!” Patton sucks on his bottom lip. “Well, pretty _bad_ pranks but...”

“Oh, so now you’re defending him?” Virgil laughs in disbelief. “You’re always telling me how uneasy he makes you feel because of how much you don’t know about him. In fact, none of us know anything about him! He’s never opened up to us about what he really does, how can we trust someone who doesn’t tell shit to his friends?”

Patton’s eyes shift, doubtful. “But _you_ don’t open up to us either.”

Virgil winces and backs away from Patton, letting his intense gaze fall to the ground.

“I…may not be in the best of terms with Janus, but I can turn that around!” Patton continues. “I’ll see to it that he’s on the right path! With Roman’s help of course.”

“You’re not going to get Roman to help you,” Virgil mutters. “He’s a single braincelled idiot that Janus can easily manipulate.”

“That’s a mean thing to say! I think we need to calm down and think this through.” Patton rests his hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “I’ll go talk to Janus to set things straight. I’m sure that all of this is just a big misunderstanding!”

Virgil grits his teeth. “No Patton, he’s just going to lie to you!”

“Well, I am _not_ about to let this family fall apart! I’m going to talk to him, okay? I forbid you from saying anything about this to the others, especially to Roman.” Patton squeezes Virgil’s hands. “I know you can’t handle this, so just leave it all to me. Please promise me that you will keep this between us.”

They stare at each other, unyielding and standing their ground. Try as he may, Virgil knows he won’t win this battle. No matter what he says, Patton won’t ever listen. Nothing can topple this perfect little world Patton has created, not if he has anything to say about it. Virgil has always let it slide—never said a word of defiance, letting Patton do _everything_ in this goddamn group because Virgil trusts him that much, even though he’s seen how much it can threaten to break Patton. 

But not this time. This time, Virgil is calling the shots. He’s not going to rely on Patton any longer. And so, he lets the lie roll off his tongue.

“Sure, Pat. I’ll follow your lead.”

Patton smiles with relief and tightens his grip on Virgil’s hand. “Come on, let’s get to class!”

Virgil nods and sets his eyes on Plan B.

Roman hums a happy tune as he makes his way to his Social Studies Class when a hand suddenly roughly lands on his left shoulder out of nowhere. He twists his torso, raising up a clear folder to defend himself against whoever wants to pick a fight with him, but stops himself when he meets Virgil’s panicked expression. “Holy Hera!” Roman hisses. “I almost took your whole face out.”

“Roman,” Virgil says, “I need to talk to you.”

“Well I’m on the way to class, Panic at the Everywhere. I’m pretty sure this can wait—”

“It’s about Janus.”

Roman tilts his head. “What’s JD-lightful done now?”

“Something _very_ bad.”

“Like what, put a lizard inside the guidance counselor’s cup of coffee?” Roman snickers before Virgil slams his fist on the locker next to them.

“Stop joking around! This is serious!”

Annoyed, Roman furrows his brows. “Well, what is it then?”

Virgil glances around before he whispers, “I saw him lead a guy towards an ambush at an alleyway last night. The guy got stabbed in the arm while Janus walked away! I don’t know why he did it, but he’s not to be trusted Roman. You need to get away from him.”

Roman blinks at him for a few seconds, then laughs.

“Okay, you need to chill, Tickle-Me-Emo. Do you even have proof of this?”

“No!” Virgil croaks. “But I saw it!”

“And you expect me to believe this story? It could have been someone who looked like him. When did this happen anyway?”

“I told you, last night!”

Roman checks his phone. “Last night, huh? Then why did he text me that he was marathoning _The Umbrella Academy_ on Netflix?” He shows Virgil their private conversation which Virgil ignores.

“He’s obviously lying to your face!”

Roman sneers with contempt. “You know, Virge, I’m getting real sick of this attitude.”

“What?”

“You know that Janus doesn’t hang out with us during lunch all the time because you and Patton make it uncomfortable for him? You two basically hate his guts and I have no idea why!”

“Because he’s a conniving and deceitful asshole,” Virgil replies plainly. “I’ve always known there was something wrong with him, and I finally saw it with my own two eyes. I’m only telling you this to protect you.”

“Well I’ve got news for you, Surly Temple: I don’t need protecting, especially not by _you_. I’d take anyone else’s word over yours any day.” Roman stands in a huff. “Now, if you excuse me, I’m trying _not_ to be late.”

Virgil growls as he watches Roman walk away. “You’re pathetic, Roman King! Don’t blame me when the truth blows up on your face!”

“Byeeeee!” Roman sings, raising his middle finger.

Virgil is close to tearing his hair out. But he isn’t letting himself give up just yet.

If Patton and Roman won’t listen to him, he knows one other person who will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Place your best, everybody: is he going to Remus or Logan?


	18. Glass Houses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Patton speaks to Janus, but it doesn't go as planned.

When Patton first met Janus, it had been a disaster. 

The tension that followed stayed intact the moment Roman brought him over on their first day of High School, his arm slung around Janus’s shoulders. Patton had locked eyes with Janus then and they both knew instantly what the other was thinking.

Patton couldn’t help but be tense whenever Janus was with them for the first months that he became the new member of their group. His laughs were strained when Janus would talk about things Patton wouldn’t agree on and he could never sit still when he felt Janus’s scrutinizing gaze as he offered his contradictory opinions.

Most of all, Patton hated that he was the only one feeling that way. Remus automatically gravitated towards Janus because of their similar mischievous tendencies while Virgil liked his edginess and their shared interest in taking down The Man. So he hid it behind smiles and jokes.

Unease morphed into worry that Janus was becoming a bad influence to everyone—planting ideas in Remus’s head to cause trouble out of sheer boredom, coaxing Virgil to play pranks on hapless students, and showering Roman with flattery to agree with everything he said.

That worry then became genuine fear when Patton realized that Janus’s inclination to incite trouble didn’t end with suggestions and convincing arguments; Janus was also very much capable of _acting_ on his crafty schemes himself, like expertly picking the lock of Remus’s locker to retrieve a notebook he failed to return or stealing security camera footage from the Principal’s office—all while never, at least once, getting caught.

He hated feeling that way. He hated the anxiety and dread that bubbled violently inside him as he flashed his toothy grins and said his puns. He kept it all inside even though it threatened to burst.

There was a time when he slipped up, when he had accidentally let his true feelings show. It was after they had all left the penny arcade that Janus had been kicked out of (“unjustly and without basis,” as he argued with contempt) to grab Taco Bell and Patton couldn’t stop fretting as he walked by Janus’s side, trailing behind the other three.

“Why did you do it?” he whispered.

“Do what?”

“What you _did_. With the tickets.”

“There’s no evidence that I did do what I am being accused of.”

Patton stopped walking. “Why do you lie like that?”

Janus shot him a look. “‘Lie’ is such a strong word. You’re quite the killjoy. Do you not like my pranks?” He flashed an intimidating grin. “Or is it that you don’t like me?”

Patton laughed nervously. “Don’t be silly! I like you, I just...not like what you’re doing. “

“Hm. What a shame. I think we could be good friends if not for your moral ascendancy.”

“I still think we could be great friends!” Patton’s words sounded strange even to his ears, no matter how genuine he tried to make it sound. Janus eyed him with skepticism.

“Sounds like there’s a condition there.”

“No, I only used shampoo today.”

Janus glanced at Remus, Roman, and Virgil who had already walked so far up ahead and were waiting for them both to catch up. He looked back at Patton and folded his arms across his chest. 

“Alright, since you’re _so_ convincing, how about we settle on a compromise?”

Patton offers a lopsided grin. “Which is?”

“Oh,” Janus smirked. “I believe you already know what it is.”

Janus stopped having lunch with the group and his visits have become few and far in between. His absence was always pointed out by Remus for the first few days until he stopped acknowledging it altogether, and Patton knew that Roman already found out and promptly explained everything to his brother in private. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to change Roman’s relationship with Patton and, for once, Patton felt relieved…but also guilty for feeling so.

Janus was still part of the group, of course. He hung out with them on weekends and stayed over for dinner at the Kings. Conversations with Patton, when unavoidable, were kept casual, succinct, and civil. Patton still tried his best to be better friends with him and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say that Janus had tried, too. For as long as they were never alone together, if not to make breakfast during weekend sleepovers, they were fine pretending that they’re okay.

Patton rocks his heels back and forth in front of the library entrance in unease. When he spots Janus approaching, he puts on a big smile and puffs his chest outward.

“Heya, Janus!” He chirps.

“Patton,” Janus briefly nods in acknowledgment before making his way past him. Patton quickly does a side step to block his path and says, “Can we have a quick talk?”

Janus frowns. “Why?”

“Just...need to ask you something.”

“Oh no,” Janus says with sarcasm. “What _ever_ did I do now?”

Patton laughs nervously. “Come on, let’s go outside.”

Wordlessly, Janus follows Patton towards a sitting area near the pavilion. Patton settles down on a concrete bench while Janus leans his weight against the circular table maintaining a two-meter distance from his companion.

“How can I be of service to you, Patton Picani?” Janus asks.

“You don’t have to be so formal,” Patton giggles. “I just wanted to know if you’re okay!”

Janus narrows his eyes. “If I’m okay.”

“Yup!”

“What on earth brought this on?”

“Well,” Patton drawls out, twisting the ends of his hoodie that is tied around his shoulders. “I do worry about everyone in the group. If ever there’s anything bothering you, you know you can always talk to me! My ears are always open to a friend in need!”

Janus is quiet before he starts to scoff. “Alright, cut the charade. What do you really want to tell me?”

“Huh? I’m telling the truth!”

“Patton.” Janus stares at him intently. “You and I both know that we would never talk to each other one-on-one. Cordial conversations while making breakfast are as far as we are willing to go. Now really, what is it you want to say to my face?”

“That’s precisely it!” Patton insists. “We should start hanging out together more! I know we got off on the wrong foot years ago when we—”

Janus gasps exaggeratedly. “My, my! And here I thought we vowed never to speak of it again.”

Patton winces.

“In any case, that’s an issue that’s long been resolved,” Janus continues, his voice much softer now. “If it weren’t for your ‘hero complex,’ Roman and I wouldn’t be the friends we are now. So that’s a point that’s long been on your scoreboard.”

He lifts a hand to cut Patton off from speaking. “But that doesn’t mean that we can pretend to be BFFs and suddenly act concerned about one another.”

“Well, why not?” Patton says in protest. “I _do_ care! I get sad when you aren’t around during lunch breaks, I get worried about you when Roman says you’re off doing errands after school, and…” Patton pauses briefly to choose his words carefully. “…and I just want to make sure that you’re safe all the time.”

Janus eyes him. “Safe.”

Patton nods. “I know your dad’s always traveling somewhere and, well, there’s always some bad guys lurking around the corner.” 

“So…”

“So!” Patton reaches out to grab Janus’s wrist. “I kinda getcha! You know, solo kids just growing up with their pops! If there’s anyone here who can relate to whatever bad stuff you might be feeling, that’s me!”

Janus plucks Patton’s hand from his wrist and folds his arms across his chest. “Trust me, Patton. You’re the last person I would ever confide in. And let me tell you why: you think everything I do has some sort of ulterior motive.”

Patton hesitates. “Automotive? You mean like a car, right?” he tries to joke.

Janus taps his foot irately. “It’s not that it bothers me at all that you don’t trust me. Frankly, I could care less. But you should get off your high horse. After all, _you’re_ the one acting with the ulterior motives all the time. Look at where we are now: talking one-on-one as if we’re close, trying to get on my good side by pretending you care about my ‘well-being,’ when I know perfectly well that you’re only doing so for your own or someone else’s benefit.”

He leans close as he glowers, “Now, come off it already. What is it about me that you want to put a stop to this time?”

Patton feels like he’s a deer caught in headlights—unable to move, unable to speak, unable to think. Janus has backed him into a corner, effortlessly cutting through the facade to get to the heart of the conversation. If he wasn’t already sitting down, his knees would buckle and he’d drop instantly to the floor in intimidation. Such is the effect Janus always had on him from the moment they met as strangers in seventh grade, and again when Janus was first brought to the lunch table. Patton had consciously distanced himself and he is aware that Janus has done the same in all the moments they’ve crossed paths through the years. It’s a sort of tension that is more than them having starkly different personalities; it’s born from Patton’s instinctive mistrust of Janus, and Janus’s own wariness of Patton’s hypocrisy.

“It’s not that...” Patton says slowly. “I just wanted to make sure you...” _Think, Pat!_ “...aren’t worrying about all the rumors about you and Roman?”

Janus blinks in confusion. 

Patton straightens his back. “Yeah! I’ve been hearing really…nasty gossip and it shocks me how they could even think that you two could do those kinds of stuff.”

“Like what?”  
  
“I’m not going to say them, I’m no potty mouth!” He whispers, “Just a Patty mouth.”

Janus sighs, “Well, in any case, I’m used to them.”

“Okay, great! ‘Cause Roman’s been worked up about it so…I was worried about you too?” At this point, Patton is fully aware of how red he is and that he needs to stop his rambling before the conversation completely derails. “Ugh, words can be tough, I’m sorry!”

Janus stares at Patton in stunned silence. “Roman. Getting worked up about it.”

“Yeah.” Patton’s head reels. He needs to stop this string of excuses soon.

Janus hums. “To be honest, Patton, I do not know what to do with this _utterly helpful_ information.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Patton shakes his head with his eyes screwed shut. “Let’s just forget this whole thing.”

“Yes, let’s.” Janus glances around the field before continuing, “So, he...” Janus trails off before pursing his lips together into a thin line. “Never mind. Is this all?”

Patton nods and smiles. “Yup!”

“Okay,” Janus breathes out, taking one step backward. “Concerns noted. Thank you so much for _gracing_ me with your precious lunchtime.”

Patton lifts his shoulders with an uncertain grin and stands to walk back inside the building, keeping that same space between him and Janus that they’ve always consciously had.

He mentally whacks himself. He didn’t get to solve the issue at all! On top of that, he sorta-kinda lied to Janus. Did he accidentally start a whole different problem in his failed attempt to resolve the first? Why can’t he do anything right?

Patton shakes his head. No! He’s a Picani, not a Pi-can’t-i! He can’t give up, not when everyone is depending on him! He just needs to think of another solution without getting the rest involved. But what can he do when Janus is wary of his intentions?

Patton draws a sharp intake of his breath. _That’s it!_ he thinks. _He just needs to be convinced that I’m on his side!_

He jogs up to Janus’s side and flashes him a small smile. “I _do_ want to be better friends eventually, Janus. So if you ever need an ear to talk to about Roman or your pop problems, I’m _ear_ for you!”

Janus considers this and slowly breathes out. “Who am I to turn you down on that offer?”

Patton grins widely at that. Things will be okay, he’s sure of it!


	19. The Role of a Lifetime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Remus gets involved and Janus makes a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title lifted from "Role of a Lifetime" from Bare: A Pop Opera

Along the hallway, the sea of students parts in opposite directions to make way for a fuming Virgil who is currently stomping his feet towards the art room. Once there, he zeroes in on Remus, twirling a paintbrush around his white bangs.

“I need you to come with me right now,” Virgil says darkly, yanking Remus by the arm.

“Whoa, alright sunshine!” Remus yelps in surprise. “If you wanted to make out, you can just say so!”

“Shut up,” Virgil growls, pulling Remus out the door and towards an empty hallway and Remus says, “Okay, spill. Whose legs are we breaking?”

Without missing a beat, Virgil answers, “Janus’s.”

Remus knits his brows. “Record scratch? Did I hear you correctly?”

“We need to get away from him.”

“What the fuck did he do?”

“If I tell you...” Virgil bites his bottom lip, taking in a few breaths. “If I tell you, you have to let me finish and you have to believe me.”

Remus sneers. “I can do the first but the second has yet to be determined.”

“ _Remus_.”

“Jesus in a buttcrack, Virge, you’re talking about my brother’s—still claiming it—future boyfriend here. What do you expect me to do?”

Virgil tousles his hair in frustration. “Fine, _fine_! But you gotta listen to me first, okay?”

Remus makes a motion of zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

Virgil then begins to tell him the exact story he’s told to Patton and Roman that day. When he finishes, Remus is staring at him, mouth ajar and eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets.

“Okay, let me get this straight—which is hard, ‘cause I’m queer.” Remus licks his lips. “You think Janus is working for a gang who kills people.”

“It’s the only logical explanation.”

“Which is, if you think about it, is extremely illogical. Who the hell recruits a teenager to fuck people up?”

Virgil bites down the edge of his thumb hard as he muses, “Maybe it’s his dad who’s the mastermind, and he’s his runner? It makes sense, right? We’ve never _seen_ the guy! Always traveling for so-called business meetings...I bet he’s actually an undercover syndicate!”

“ _Mierda_ ,” Remus mutters. “Level with me, how many true-crime shows have you been watching these days?”

“Fuck, that’s what Patton said too. Look, you can’t...you can’t _not_ believe me.” Virgil says, pleading. “No one else will. They all think I’m just para—” he winces. “But I’m not making this shit up!”

“I’m sorry but nothing about this wild accusation is sitting well with me, Virge. I mean, I know we joke about Janus keeping dead bodies in his basement but it’s not like we _really_ think he’s fucked up like that!”

Virgil stares intensely at Remus now. “That’s why I’m going to prove it to you. To all of you. And you’re going to help me.”

Remus blinks. “Why _me_?”

“Because out of everyone, you’re the only one I can trust right now! Princey may get on my nerves a lot, but I’m not going to sit idly by while his safety is at stake. He’s the most in danger here! He’s a freakin’ idiot who’d much rather suck Janus’s dick than listen to anything we have to say!”

“Okay, rude. Only I can say that—”

Remus is cut off by Virgil who grabs the collar of his shirt. “Be _serious_ , Remus! Don’t you want to protect your brother?!” He bites down on his lip. “Please, I need you.”

Well, didn’t Virgil hit the nail right on the head? Remus’s breath hitches, feeling an urge to slam his face against the pavement in sheer frustration over the fact that he would do anything to feel needed. He spent his entire childhood being the older brother who chased away bullies and squirrels and monsters under their bed and when Roman started walking ahead on his own two feet alone, Remus found himself purposeless. And now, someone new is depending on him. What else was he to do?

“Fine,” he sighs. “We aren’t the Secret Society of Misfits for nothing.” He stares at Virgil pointedly. “How are you going to get evidence of this, anyway?”

“I’ll think of something. In the meantime, keep Roman away from him.” Virgil presses an index finger on Remus’s chest. “And don’t tell Patton or Logan about this.”

“If you end up being wrong…”

“Trust me, Rem. I want to be.”

There aren’t a lot of things that can irritate Janus Dean.

That’s a lie. Many things irritate him; he just doesn’t show it.

At that particular moment, he finds himself irritated by Patton, once again, sticking his nose into other people’s business and making it seem as though he’s got the one thing he never wants to be caught having: boy problems.

Janus, to be perfectly clear to everybody, is a gay boy who happens to have a best friend who is also a gay boy. Any onlooker would assume that these two legitimately fuck inside cars and go on cheesy dates at weekend fairs and enjoy steamy make-out sessions on coffee tables at high school parties—all of which sound fun as _hell_ but are, fortunately, completely false. 

“Fortunately,” Janus repeats in his head. He says this because these are situations he would never want to be caught in with Roman no matter how much he thinks about it (which is never at all). For starters, Roman’s car isn’t tinted, Janus avoids state fairs like the plague, and he can’t imagine having to deal with Roman’s morning-after dramatics about his bad drunken decisions (once was enough, but they don’t talk about that).

Despite these outrageous rumors, Janus finds himself hardly bothered at all. If anything, it means he’s left alone and spared from being asked out on dates by cringey randos or shoved up against walls by sexually confused seniors.

It isn’t to say that Janus doesn’t ever want to be romanced in his life (He’s a lover of theater! Of course, he wants to be swept off his feet someday!) but the mere thought of being in a relationship with someone in High School is enough to make him want to tear his hair out. They’re all emotionally imbalanced, naive, depressed, and obsessed with fast food chicken nuggets—how could anything healthy come out of that? Besides, Janus has no time to waste his youth going on dates and writing love notes and wearing another person’s jacket as a show of being “claimed.” He’s got two years left in this hellhole; might as well keep it as _uneventful_ and _painless_ as possible.

And so he allows the rumors to grow. He’s left alone and unbothered as a result, and everyone is happy. Yup. Happy. Excellent. Peachy keen. Perfect.

It’s not like he’s letting them grow so that no one ever tries taking Roman away from him. Nope. Not at all.

Janus pinches the bridge of his nose. He can feel a migraine coming. Just thinking about…everything.

He and Roman have never once opened up about where they stand and have always agreed to keep the matter private. This works in Janus’s favor because he’d rather be mutilated by a rusty ax in the middle of Phys Ed than talk about _feelings_ with the most dramatic man in school. If no one talks about it, then the feelings don’t exist, right? But this endless teasing from Remus and assumptions from Virgil and Patton have been _oh so helpful_ in keeping his mind off the fact that he maybe, sort of, kind of has a little, itty-bitty, teensy-weensy crush on his best friend.

 _No_ , he tells himself, seething. _I don’t._

Sometimes, the lies he tells himself are comforting.

But when he has someone like Patton reminding him of the apparent truth that hounds inside his brain and gnaws at his chest, he is confronted with an emotion he very much dislikes: _fear_ —not of having his heart broken or of staying stuck in the friend zone, but of Roman actually openly discussing his feelings (or lack thereof) with anyone else. Janus doesn’t want that. Janus wants them both to stay perfectly fine the way they are: blissfully ignorant.

“Why do you look like you want to murder somebody?”

Janus jumps at the voice and turns around, seeing Roman looking at him with a half-amused and half-concerned smile.

“Because I do,” Janus answers simply.

The way Roman’s expression shifts isn’t lost on Janus.

“I’m _kidding_ ,” he stresses, walking towards the center of the stage.

Roman trails behind, laughing. “I know, I know. Besides, it’s not like you’re really capable of that.”

“Oh you’d be surprised, Roman King.” Janus folds his arms and manages a smirk. “I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve.”

Roman pouts his lips and hums in consideration. “Maybe. But you know what I think? I think your ‘I-Will-End-You-And-Feed-You-To-The-Dogs’ persona is just for show.”

Janus feels his lips curve upward with mild interest. “Really. You think me getting banned from several neighborhood establishments, nearly causing school-wide panic at an assembly out of sheer entertainment, and risking the entire theater club detention time for keeping a bed scene in our play is just for show?”

“Yeah, doy!” Roman says, as though it is the most obvious truth. “I’ve seen how you really are: dorky, a little introverted, and a lil miss prissy-pants.”

“I am horrified by this accusation.”

“Whatever. Point is that deep down, I don’t think you’ll ever willingly want to hurt anybody.”

Janus shoots him a sly grin. “That’s false, doll. I would throw hands at any racist or homophobe on the street instantly if I ever catch them beating up a person of minority.”

Roman shrugs. “Point. But I mean innocent people.”

“Obviously. I’m not a psycho.” Janus pauses mid-thought and he narrows his eyes, placing his hands on both his hips. “Hold on, is this why you’re having such a hard time with this scene? Because you can’t convince yourself enough that I, portraying your character’s psychotic acquaintance, would ever desire to harm you?”

“Uh.” Roman wrinkles his nose, reluctant to say what is on the tip of his tongue. “Okay, yeah, you got me!” he says instead, running a hand through his hair.

Janus sighs. “Do I need to nudge you down a flight of stairs? Or maybe I should shave your head while you’re sleeping.”

Roman gasps audibly. “Don’t you dare!”

“I don’t understand what’s so hard. You’ve always seen me play the villain. What’s so different about this one?”

Roman hesitates again and Janus is starting to become a little testy, tapping his foot on the wooden floor as a show of growing aggravation. “Yeah,” Roman breathes out. “I don’t know where I was going with this.”

Before Janus could open his mouth to retort, Roman asks, “Oh, by the way...how was _Umbrella Academy_?”

Janus doesn’t fail to notice the quick change of topic but gives into it anyway. “I relate most to Five, but I would die happy in a Diego-Klaus-Ben sandwich to be quite honest. You somehow remind me of Luther—all muscle, no brain.”

“Gee, thanks,” Roman mutters with a breathy chuckle.

Janus walks close to Roman and stares at him dead in the eye. “You seem out of it today. We can’t have you distracted during rehearsal.”

The corner of Roman’s lips curves upward as he playfully remarks, “Around you, I’m always distracted.”

Janus stumbles backward, mustering every ounce of will he had in his body _not_ to gawk and blush. “Catching me off guard with flattery, I see. You’ve been taking down notes.”

“I learn from the best,” Roman winks. “And really, it’s nothing. Skirmish at the…lunch table. The usual. You know, I’d feel much better if you sat with us more, though. God knows how long I can keep handling their boring and depressing energies on my own.”

“Oh, because they _definitely_ love me there.” Janus rolls his eyes. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”

Roman smiles at him and waves his hand with a flourish. “Well then, my comely costar: your lines from the top, _por favor_.”

Janus regards him with a mix of nuisance and fondness, a look that is only ever reserved for him—but hidden behind a straight face and an eyebrow lift. Nothing and no one will ever successfully pierce through this facade he’s expertly built since winter break of ninth grade when they had huddled close for warmth and solace after watching a somber film and Roman, his cheeks stained lightly with stray tears, had passively uttered a verse from Pablo Neruda’s “If You Forget Me.”

“Very impressive. Did you read that from an Instagram poem?” Janus had teased, testing Roman’s knowledge of the origin of those lines.

“How dare you. I _read_ poetry,” Roman had answered with a look of pride, and he recited the poem from beginning to end, his diction perfect and his words filled with emotion, while Janus watched the moonlight stream from the window, bathing Roman in an ethereal glow.

But Janus is a firm believer in the fact that the first person to fall would lose. And, if there’s anything that he and Roman could agree on, it’s that he would never back down from a challenge without also claiming a win.

And so he scrunches his nose, points out, “That’s not your spot,” and sheds off the skin he wears to embody a stranger written for him in a hundred-page script to utter lies he’s allowed to tell without consequence or retribution. And he smiles, no longer himself, no longer on a stage, and no longer carrying the weight of an annoying warmth that comes with his tethering to Roman King.

He’s an actor, after all.


	20. A Gathering Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Remy reflects on their relationship with their younger brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW // mentions of (recreational) drug use

Having Virgil as a younger brother can be a handful. He was diagnosed at an early age with an anxiety disorder and it was always up to Remy to calm him down during attacks at home and in public.

Virgil was born when Remy was already nine-years-old, as independent as kids can be, and showing signs of identifying as a queer person. They liked dancing to Beyonce and Shakira videos on YouTube, would borrow skirts from friends on occasion, and would squeal over both female and male stars in Hollywood movies. Remy thinks Virgil’s sudden existence is the result of their parents needing to rear a second child they could hopefully understand more. Unfortunately (in their parents’ point-of-view at least), Remy’s young brother came out with social ineptitude, a strange affinity for the occult and dressing in a punk rock aesthetic, and zero interest to leave the house without Remy to accompany him.

Virgil has always been a handful—he always asked Remy to play with him, woke them up early on weekends so they could watch his favorite cartoons, and depended on them to calm him down during his episodes. Remy hated it. They hated having to spend so much time and energy on their brother, just because their parents couldn’t be fucked to help.

And with an age gap that wide, it was difficult for the two to see eye-to-eye with anything. Remy didn’t want to be burdened with a responsibility of acting as a role model to a young kid who constantly killed their vibe and can’t even make friends in preschool. They had other priorities—priorities they would much rather busy themselves with than help Virgil with math and silly art projects.

Virgil was a handful, and Remy was not the best sibling they should have been. There was a time when Remy had snapped out of the blue and told Virgil, “One day, I won’t be around anymore, and you’ll have to start learning how to do all this crap on your own.” It meant nothing to Remy at the time, but it meant everything to Virgil. Remy only came to an understanding of the gravity of their words when Virgil had distanced himself for more than a week, refusing to speak, to eat, or to come out of his room. And when Remy finally got him to talk, their heart broke into pieces upon hearing Virgil say, “I don’t blame you for wanting to leave me too. I wouldn’t want to be around me either.”

It would take years before Virgil could trust Remy again. Luckily, Remy is a stubborn little bitch and they were resolute on giving Virgil the compassion that he rightfully deserved. Remy isn’t the affectionate type, but they showed it in the best possible way they will ever know how—like taping a note card with instructions on what to do during a panic attack at the back of Virgil’s ID, or teaching him how to _safely_ smoke blunts so he doesn’t learn it from his peers, or mustering every ounce of willpower in his body NOT to flirt with the guitarist of a band they took Virgil to see at a live show Virgil wanted to go to.

Err, yeah, Remy isn’t really the “responsible older sibling” type of bitch but they try. Virgil has always been a handful, after all, and who else should learn how to perfectly handle him than Remy themselves? He’s Remy’s baby brother and the only family member who actually matters to them now. So, whatever Virgil wants, Remy will willingly move mountains to get it—not without complaining about it first though.

So here Remy is, sauntering through the front door of their home and making a beeline for their bedroom where they find Virgil curled up on the beanbag and listening to Vitamin String Quartet.

Remy kicks Virgil’s foot to get his attention, and Virgil quickly pulls back his headphones.

“I hope you know what I had to go through just to get this, babes,” Remy tells him, waving his sunglasses on his left hand.

“What did you find?” Virgil asks with urgency.

Remy drops themselves unto their bed. “Enough. So, I was able to get some cute guys at my workplace to spill the tea about the frat boys you spotted and, apparently, there are, like, rumors about this ‘person’ who you can allegedly hire to do random chores—like pick up groceries or fix your bathroom pipes. Totes harmless things. But if you pay _enough_ , you can get them to do the dirty work too. Like delivering crack to your doorstep or getting solid evidence that your man’s got a sidechick. And they’re saying the bitch is a pro; they _never_ get caught.”

Virgil purses his lips. “I only know _one_ person that fits the bill.”

Remy grabs their glass pipe hidden underneath their pillow and takes out their lighter from their front pants pocket. “No certainties, girl, but it’s a lead. But also, it’s, like, not actually as bad as you thought.”

“Not as _bad_? He still helped commit a crime, Remy. _By choice_. It proves that he doesn’t care about who gets hurt as long as it’s for his own benefit!”

“Omg, V. Take a chill pill. Here, wanna smoke?”

Virgil grabs fistfuls of his hair. “No!”

Remy sits up with an annoyed look on their face. “Babes, seriously, what are you gonna do, turn him in to the police? For the sake of clearing your conscience?”

Virgil turns away, his mind reeling.

Remy tuts and sits up, stripping away any hint of sarcasm from their voice as they say, “Remember that Janus is just a kid—like you, babes. Kids can get really messed up these days without anyone guiding them to the right path. I mean, look at how I turned out to be: a hot and tired slutty mess. You’re pretty lucky, all things considered.”

Virgil bites the edge of his thumb, frazzled and conflicted. He shakes his head violently and stammers, “I-I need to tell Remus. He’d know what to do.”

Remy raises a brow. “Not Pattybear?”

“No, Patton never listens to me. At least Remus does. He never cares what other people think.” Virgil looks at the card on his hand and bites his lower lip. “I gotta go.”

“Virge—” Remy calls out before Virgil slams the door behind him. Remy sighs and rubs their temples, asking the Lord for strength and a bottle of vodka to miraculously appear on their hand.

Virgil is definitely a handful. But Remy has learned to love and accept that about him. They can only hope that the people surrounding Virgil can eventually learn how to deal with that too.


	21. Tension at the Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Logan notices something amiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting two chapters today to make up for the missed posting schedule over the past week, which I spent completing 90% of the fic!
> 
> This is also the halfway point so... buckle up for a long and emotionally exhausting ride ahead.

Logan isn’t one to care for sentiment.

He had lived years without having people to call as friends and he got by fine, only focused on his studies, his projects, and college prep.

He didn’t mind either. He had a hard time understanding people, just as people had difficulties understanding him. He had a short temper and never learned the importance of hesitating before pointing out to someone their faults.

Kids gave him a wide berth as a consequence.

Was it a lonely childhood? Far from it. He liked the peace and quiet, and the opportunities to actually do what he wanted without distraction or having to cater to someone’s feelings. Besides, two sleepovers with classmates in kindergarten and grade school were enough for him to set the bar high for who he’ll willingly call “friends” in his lifetime.

No one seems to be able to meet that bar so far, unfortunately.

There was only one time when Logan had considered calling someone a friend, on account of the fact that the person had been someone Logan could actually tolerate, who somehow matched his energy and intellect.

It was Janus, the new kid, who ended up becoming his partner for a paper in English class in seventh grade. It had been a struggle to get him to share his thoughts at first; he just kept asking Logan questions that caused Logan to ramble over and over again until Logan eventually realized what he was doing and said, with passive-aggression, “If you don’t want to help, I’m used to doing papers on my own.”

Logan was used to partners either heaving a sigh of relief and leaving him to do it himself or lashing out to complain about how rude he is. Janus, however, had merely smirked and said, “What ever are you talking about?” before showing Logan a filled up Word document that perfectly fleshed out Logan’s ramblings and included Janus’s own unvoiced ideas.

On most occasions, the two would debate over their conflicting opinions on specific subjects. It thrilled him more than it irked him, but he never would tell Janus that. Besides, even if he didn’t say it, he knew Janus was aware. Otherwise, Janus wouldn’t look so irritatingly entertained the entire time he’d push Logan’s buttons.

But they were never friends outside of their class. They never talked about personal things or other classes or other people. Strictly a professional relationship, as Logan had called it. The only interactions they’ve ever had involved Janus making quick saves for Logan from bullies who liked to torment nerdy kids with huge glasses and braces. Logan never thanked him and Janus never asked for thanks either. After all, neither of them had been the “friendly” type—Logan had no need for friends, and Janus recoiled at the thought of having personal connections with peers.

So the following year, they were back to being strangers.

One true thing about Logan is that he doesn’t care to maintain friendships. He thinks that having friends at an age where his peers are hormonal and emotionally imbalanced is hardly worth the trouble, the pain, and the trauma. For once, during a sudden movie marathon with a group he had only known for a few days, he was finally open to maintaining this one.

If only he had known what he would be getting himself into.

Logan is definitely not imagining it. There is something amiss at the lunch table. He can see the tense shoulders, the forced civility, and the glares from opposite sides and, if not for Patton’s random topics of discussion, they would be completely taken over by distressing silence. There is an obvious divide that Logan can distinguish between Virgil and Remus, and Roman and Patton. Roman refuses to acknowledge the other faction, his body turned towards Patton and only speaking to him when no one else is answering. Virgil is also ignoring both Patton and Roman, speaking in hushed tones with Remus, who refuses to look at anyone other than the sandwich on his lunch tray. Janus has also been giving the group a wide berth lately, even more than usual.

Logan finds it all aggravating because, whatever just happened, he is being kept in the dark about it and no one is even attempting to be subtle.

“Is something the matter?” He asks the table. He is met with wary glances. “You all seem vexed.”

“Everything’s A-Okay, Lo-Lo!” Patton chirps. 

Logan blinks. “That’s bullshit.”

Everyone looks up in surprise.

“You know, all problems can be solved through proper discourse. No avoiding it, no tiptoeing around it, no changing the subject. I’m certain that you can talk things through together, whatever it is that’s on all of your minds.”

“This doesn’t concern you,” Virgil tells him, his voice low.

“Oh, is it not? Am I not part of this group too?”

“Chillax, Tie Boy,” Remus says nervously. “Everything’s coolio here.”

“Maybe everything _would_ be ‘cool’ if people started minding their own goddamn business,” Roman murmurs haughtily.

“Maybe it _would_ be if you just stop acting high and mighty all the time,” Virgil barks back.

“I liked you better when you were quiet and too scared to talk to us.”

“Well, I _never_ liked you.”

“So I was right,” Logan says, glancing at Patton and Remus. “Something _is_ wrong.”

“ _Dios mio_ , maybe if all of you aren’t such jerkwads to one another...” Remus mutters under his breath, picking at his sandwich.

Roman sneers at his brother with contempt. “Look who’s talking.”

Patton giggles nervously. “Okay, come on everyone—”

“Fuck you!” Remus almost yells. “You’re the one who’s being a real dickhead!”

“I wouldn’t be if _someone_ didn’t just start a smear campaign against one of us in the group!” Roman yells back.

Virgil flips him off. “Whatever. Go die in a ditch.”

“Wait, you _know_?” Patton looks at Roman, panicked.

“What do you mean ‘you know?’ _You_ know too?”

“Virgil!” Patton shoots him a reproachful look.

“Look, maybe if you guys could just hear Virgie out, then—”

“I can’t believe this. You’re taking his side? Over me?”

“Can you stop making this about you? Oh wait, bitch, you can’t!”

“Listen, if we could all just have a Not-Talking Time...”

“Stay out of this, Pat.”

“Wha—Virgil!”

“Stop this at once!” Logan bellows and everyone’s mouths clamp shut. “This isn’t helping!”

“Microsoft Nerd’s right. So I’m leaving.” Roman stands and grabs his Hydroflask with an aggressive swipe of his hand. “Screw all of you.”

“Roman!” Patton calls out.

“Fuck him, Pat,” Virgil says. “Janus already has him under his spell. He’s a lost cause.”

Patton looks at him, pleading, “Stop talking that way about our friends, Virgil.”

“I don’t need friends who lie about who they are and put other people in danger.”

“Will I continue to be left in the metaphorical dark, or will anyone start explaining everything to me?” Logan sighs.

“Logan,” Patton glances his way with a hesitant smile. “Shut your ever-flapping gobtalker.”

Logan, shocked, snaps his mouth shut.

“Virgil, you’ve gone too far,” Patton continues. “I told you that I would handle this, right?”

“You don’t get it, Patton,” Virgil answers him. “We were supposed to handle it _together_. But you treat me like some sort of baby. All of us! Right, Remus?”

Remus digs his nails on the sides of his neck and groans. “Don’t make me take sides on this one too.”

“You’re not our dad, Patton,” Virgil mutters under his breath. “Stop trying to act like it.”

Patton closes his eyes tight, hurt and shaken. “Virgil, you don’t know what you’re saying,” he says. “You’re just confused and angry. I can—”

“Fuck all of this.” Virgil slams his fist on the table and stomps away, leaving Patton staring at the empty spot, Remus poking his untouched sandwich, and Logan pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t suppose you’d want to put me up to speed with what is going on?” Logan tells him pointedly.

“Honestly?” Remus looks at him with tired eyes. “I want nothing more than to spend a few seconds of my fucking life _not_ thinking about this fucking mess.”

Logan feels his blood boil but he holds himself back from letting his frustration out. “Alright then.” He stands and tells Remus, “I’ll see you this Saturday,” before leaving the table.

Remus glances at Patton who is twisting his fingers together. “I’m going to check on…Roman? Or-or chase down Virgil? Or maybe Jan—Lo—no…”

“Patton…”

“Ah!” he yells as he jumps to his feet. “I forgot to do my History homework!” Patton takes his tray with him and sprints away in a daze, leaving Remus behind, alone.

Remus digs his nails on his cheeks and groans. “And then, there was one,” he mutters to himself, before chucking his sandwich across the cafeteria and, accidentally, inciting a food fight that he, for the first time ever, has no energy or care in the world to enjoy.


	22. (Sent at 8:22 PM)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Logan writes a letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick chapter before all hell breaks loose.

Joan,

I hope this letter finds you well.

As you are most likely aware, I have now started eleventh grade. And though I had every intention in the beginning to breeze through these last remaining years in high school simply doing my work and acing my classes, it unsettles me how it is increasingly proving difficult.

Don’t be mistaken, my academic standing has remained intact. However, I have unfortunately made the acquaintance of fellow students at my grade that are causing the deterioration of my mental health. I am exaggerating, of course.

These five friends have been at each other’s throats, figuratively, for the past week and I am not being supplied with the knowledge regarding its cause. As you can infer, it is quite vexing. I have been urging them all to communicate with one another, but they are choosing to ignore my words. I am livid—so much so that I had almost finished a jar of Crofter’s for dinner tonight. I believe that if you were here, you would shake your head at me with disapproval. I would apologize if I was only remorseful. I am not.

I wonder about what you would do if you were in my place attempting to deal with such emotional creatures who refuse to acknowledge or ask help for what they are going through. I am not adept at providing comfort or offering my sympathies. To be frank, this group’s dynamic is so strange. They care for each other but will argue frequently and will act behind each other’s backs. I do not have enough experience being among friends, but I wonder if they are healthy for one another.

I wonder about this every day.

And yet, I must confess that I too have started to care for them to a certain degree. I want to do whatever I can to help solve this mess they had created, not in the way a few of them choose to do (which is to pretend the problem doesn’t at all exist, or “othering” a person due to sudden mistrust), but rather to speak to each of them as calmly and as objectively as I possibly can. It’s unfortunate that I may be the only one in the group with enough intellect to not be overpowered by emotion and, thus, it is my responsibility to guide them through. I am the only one capable of that, as usual.

This is getting far too long so I shall end it here. I am cognizant that you do not have the luxury of time to reply, and it is alright. Maybe when you call soon, I shall fill you in about my new friends. It must surprise you that I _have_ friends, really. I am no longer Loner Logan as you used to refer to me. I now have a “squad.” (I think that’s the term they used.)

I hope all is well for you over there in London. I am looking forward to your stories. Mom and Dad miss you very much. Don’t worry, I’ve been telling them not to, with respect to your request before you left. They still do, though. 

Sometimes, I feel like the only person who ever listens to what others say.

Regards,

Logan


	23. Why We Build a Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Virgil and Remus prepare to stalk their target.

Trust no one.

That’s the one thing in life Virgil swears by. That’s why his guard is always up, he keeps his secrets, and he believes in nothing but his gut—and right now, his gut is telling him that Remy is wrong. 

Even his own sibling can’t hold him down.

Everyone is turning out to be a disappointment. The people he thought would understand him the most are going against him for the sake of “keeping the peace.” Well, Virgil has always been a fighter, and when he knows something is wrong, he won’t take it sitting down. Fight or flight. 

But even Virgil will admit that he can never do it on his own, and so he clings on to somebody who can help him—someone who can convince him that he isn’t crazy with his suspicions. A witness, if you will.

Who would have thought it would be Remus?

“Can we at least drop by Pizza Planet if I’m gonna spend my precious after-school hours stalking this hoe?” he asks, picking his nose with his pinky.

“Shhh!” Virgil pulls Remus’s sleeve towards him, eyes locked in on Janus staring at his phone screen outside of the school gates. “He’s already up to something.”

“Wanna bet a kidney that it’s a secret boyfriend from that private school up north?”

“My kidney is worth fucking more than his love life.” Virgil looks at Remus sharply. “And I thought you wanted him for Roman?”

Remus shrugs. “At this rate, it’ll take a decade before Ro realizes he’s always been in love with him, and by then it’ll be too late and he completely misses his chance and spends the rest of his life decaying alone in his lonely apartment—”

“ _Focus!_ ” Virgil starts making a move to follow Janus, who had just started walking away.

Remus snorts. “Rude. You’re the one who asked about it.”

They keep a considerably far distance from Janus, treading lightly and avoiding conversation with one another, no matter how hushed, to avoid catching Janus’s attention by accident.

Janus had always gotten away with things simply because he never lets himself get caught. 

But even he can slip up. And at that moment, Virgil and Remus are witnesses to a string of suspicious events.

The first thing that catches them both off-guard is when Janus suddenly veers off the path and heads to the woods. This is a surprise not because Janus is taking a detour, but because Janus—as Virgil and Remus are both aware—hates being in foresty locations (he simply loathes dirt). Unfortunately for the two, trailing Janus has now become a much more tedious process, for the fact that they have to be aware of where they step and how much noise they’re making.

Virgil, however, is a pro at sneaking. He tiptoes over dried leaves, hides behind trees, and holds his breath for extended periods of time, sucking in only when Janus is out of earshot.

Remus, on the other hand, silently suffers—well, almost silently. He grunts and gulps in his valiant effort to catch up, feeling the increasing rush of adrenaline at the thought of Janus leading them purposely to be sacrificed to a demon in the middle of nowhere.

The second suspicious thing they witness is when, suddenly, Janus stops and drops his bag to the ground. Virgil and Remus tense up and hold their breaths. They watch him kneel and dig through his belongings until he takes out a bag of...makeup?

Virgil pulls Remus’s arm to hide behind a tree before Janus flips open a compact mirror.

 _Is he seriously putting on makeup here?_ Remus hand-signs at Virgil, making patting motions on his cheek with a questioning stare.

 _The fuck should I know?_ Virgil says back, rolling his shoulders with an annoyed expression. 

_I told you; it’s a fuck buddy._ Remus makes a lewd motion, bobbing his head up and down with his tongue sticking out.

Virgil scrunches his nose in disgust and cranes his neck from behind the trunk. He freezes.

He witnesses the third and last suspicious thing. At least, he wishes he had witnessed it…if Janus hadn’t completely vanished into thin air.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

Remus bumps his shoulder against Virgil’s. “What? What do you see?”

“He’s gone. Shit! _Shitshitshit_!”

Remus circles around Virgil and takes a peek, blinking fast when he sees the empty spot where Janus had been.

“Ah fuck,” Remus sighs. “So, pizza?”

Virgil scowls and punches Remus in the arm—a poor decision, he realizes too late, as Remus bites down a loud yelp.

“For a couple of nosey rats, you two are awful at stealth.”

They instinctively take steps back as they turn around and see Janus leaning against the trunk of the tree next to theirs.

“What were you up to?” Virgil begins, his voice low and cautious.

Janus sniffs. “Honey, I should be asking you two that.”

“Well, _obviously_ , Virgie and I were about to have hot outdoor sex before you butted in,” Remus says with a smug grin. “Although, this _ménage à trois_ could definitely work. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve fantasized about this moment.”

Virgil makes a noise of dismay. “Some things are meant to be _unsaid_ , Dukey.”

Janus stays unimpressed. “Tempting as that god-awful proposal is, I am in the middle of performing my satanic ritual and would appreciate complete privacy. Please leave.”

Virgil flashes him a lopsided grin. “Didn’t know you had to pretty yourself up to summon the demons.”

“What do you want?” Janus demands, his brows knitting. “I don’t have all day.”

“Of course you don’t.” Virgil starts walking over to Janus threateningly. “What is it today: drug smuggling? Looting homes while the owners are away?” He stops just a few inches away from Janus, neither of them flinching at each other’s deathly glares. “Or are you going to lure someone to his death in an empty alleyway again?”

“Oh yes, keep spouting nonsense, please.”

Virgil takes out his phone and holds the photo up at Janus’s face. “You were here. I saw you.”

Janus raises a brow at the picture. “I was never there.”

“Bullshit!” Virgil grips Janus’s arm, and Janus swiftly twists it to throw Virgil off-balance, and Virgil lands on his side on the cold ground.

“So needlessly violent.” Janus glances up at Remus who watched the whole scene with apprehension. “Enjoying the show?”

“What the fuck else am I supposed to do?”

“I told you,” Virgil wheezes, holding his sore arm. “If he didn’t have anything to hide, he wouldn’t be lying and attacking us.”

“Sweetheart, you grabbed me first,” Janus spits. “And I have every reason to protect my private matters.”

“You’re a con.”

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night.”

“Okay, Jesus!” Remus steps in between them both and places a hand on Janus’s shoulder. “Let’s just fucking talk, alright? Virge, get up and calm your tits. J, seriously, if whatever it is you’re hiding is _that_ important to you, we solemnly swear on both our dicks that we won’t tell anyone.”

Remus casts a look at Virgil. “Right, V?”

Virgil chews the inside of his cheek and rolls his shoulders. “ _Fine._ ” He holds up his phone again. “The problem is that I _can’t_ sleep at night, because of this—because of what I saw. Just tell me why you did it.”

Janus presses his lips into a thin line and pinches the bridge of his nose. “What stroke of luck I have that, out of all the people, _you_ caught me.”

He folds his arms across his chest and says, “You’re hurting yourself reading too much into this. I was hired to do a job, that’s it. It paid well, so why not?”

“Hire you? Why?” Remus asks, incredulous.

Janus smirks. “Because when the chips are down, won’t you do anything to survive?”

Virgil realizes that these are the very same words Janus had told him back at the laundromat and he takes an instinctive step backward in retaliation.

“Anyway,” Janus continues, “those lovely men in your photo asked me to do them one simple favor. Don’t be mistaken in thinking I planned this. I have standards.”

“They asked you to help them stab a dude in exchange for compensation and you _agreed_?”

Janus laughs a little. “Oh, honey, if you only knew how much they offered! Even you wouldn’t have refused.”

“Yes I would!” Virgil eyes Remus. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Well... I mean, yeah, Jesus!” Remus rubs the back of his neck. “That’s fucked up shit, dude. I know we joke about mutilation and horrifying retribution, but we don’t go around helping people skewer hapless adults out of nowhere.”

“Oh,” Janus tilts his head. “Forgot to mention that the guy was a wanted pedophile, and the group who approached me wanted vengeance for a younger sister who was his latest victim. I acted as bait.”

Remus gapes at him. “Record scratch— _what_?!”

Virgil grasps Remus’s arm for balance. “Are you for real?”

“Yes,” Janus replies simply. “Interesting how far certain people would go, huh?”

Virgil and Remus exchange a look. “But someone still could have gotten killed. And you just did it for the money,” Virgil says quietly.

“It certainly was a wonderful added bonus,” Janus muses, stroking his chin.

Remus purses his lips at the sight of Virgil’s uncertainty. If anyone asked him, he would also jump in on the chance to physically hurt anyone who would cause harm to his brother, just as the college guys did. And yet, he understands Virgil’s hesitation; it doesn’t sit well with him either that Janus had done what he did for self-serving means. 

“Something could’ve happened to you. You’re not that dumb not to have realized that,” Remus tells him sullenly.

Janus chuckles. “Oh, that’s sweet. You actually do care about my safety.”

“No shit! You’re our friend, Jan! Mad respect for your hardcore undercover crap, but why burden yourself with that heavy responsibility?”

“Piqued my interest I suppose.”

“Is it your dad?” Virgil starts to say with concern. “Did he set you up for this?”

Janus shoots him an icy glare. “Do not bring my father into this.”

The two are taken aback by Janus’s serious tone, starkly contrasting the way he has been speaking to them for the past 15 minutes—devoid of playful intonations and sarcasm. Virgil and Remus clam up and feel their bodies stiffen.

Janus slowly walks close to them, carefully plucking out a few small twigs from the sleeve of Virgil’s jacket as he says, “Do you know what the problem with you is, Virgil Rivers? You live your life in constant fear. Your father left you to start a new family, your mother cares little about you, Remy is busy with his own problems to cater to yours, and you can’t stand the thought of knowing that the friends you hold so close to your heart have baggage they can’t share with you. Once you see something you don’t like, you shut them away so _you_ don’t get hurt. So, between the two of us, who is really acting the most selfish?”

Virgil trembles, biting his lower lip until blood drips. 

Janus takes a step back and tilts his head to the side. “If by any chance my answer is to your satisfaction, I shall be taking my leave now. It has been such a pleasure having this chat with you two, it truly was.”

He turns on his heel and begins to walk away when he stops mid-step. “If you two tell anyone…” he smiles slyly at them both. “…I will castrate you slowly and painfully with a bread knife.”

Virgil scoffs. “You say it isn’t a big deal, but you’re threatening us?”

“Yeah, and not tell?” Remus whines. “Not even Roman? It could earn you hotness points in his scoreboard, not gonna lie.”

“I don’t air out your dirty laundry in front of the others but I assure you I will not hesitate the next time.” Janus maintains his gaze. Then, he turns away. “And go ahead, tell Roman. Let’s see who he believes more.”

The two watch Janus disappear through the trees, and Remus kicks the nearby tree with brute force.

“Fucking bitch! What an asshole! I _ought_ to tell the rest!” He scratches the back of his neck. “But, shit. Janus often doesn’t mean what he says but that thinly veiled threat is serious as fuck.”

Virgil stays quiet and Remus shoots him a look of concern. “Are you okay?”

Virgil shakes his head slowly. “I don’t—I don’t know what to do.”

“Hey…” Remus pats Virgil’s head with calming strokes. “Don’t take it to heart. He was just trying to get under your skin.”

“Am I alone in thinking that it’s still not right?”

“Well, I’m more concerned about what he did it for.” Remus scratches his cheek. “But though I’m just as obsessed with getting deep, deep down inside that messed up brain of his and, I dunno, eat his heart or whatever, I kinda wanna respect his boundaries?”

Virgil squints. “You’ve never respected anyone else’s boundaries.”

“Not anyone who _matters_!” Remus huffs. “I don’t go out of my way to vilify _you_ when I know you’re delivering grass to kids’ lockers every month.”

“They are Remy’s customers, and how the fuck did you even know that?”

“Bitch, I’m not _that_ stupid not to piece two and two together when I noticed you listening attentively to Janus’s impromptu lock picking lesson.” Remus lifts a finger. “Which, I may add, you _aced_.”

“At least I don’t get anyone almost killed. Or lie to my _friends_ for that matter!” Virgil growls menacingly as he pushes past Remus to start walking out of the woods. “This isn’t over.”

Remus throws his head back to let out a moan. “I’d like to keep my balls, V! What are you planning to do now?”

“We were careless this time!” He turns around and shoves his finger against Remus’s chest. “Next time, we won’t be.”

Virgil stomps away and Remus sighs. “What did Roman even _see_ in these bitches?” he whispers to himself before shaking his head and chasing after the retreating figure.


	24. Don't Do Sadness (Saturday, Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Patton attempts to singlehandedly fix things, but realizes that no one needs him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Spring Awakening: The Musical"
> 
> -
> 
> Oh boy. A three-parter.

_10:00 AM_

**Patton:**

Virgil

**_(Seen by Virgil Rivers, 10:25 AM)_ **

Can we talk, please?

**Virgil:**

Sure

**Patton:**

What happened at the table…

It wasn’t nice

You and Roman have to apologize to one another

**Virgil:**

_(Sends WTF meme)_

Fine

If he says it first

**Patton:**

That’s gonna be hard

**Virgil:**

Because he’s a self-obsessed prick

And a conceited jerk

With a superiority complex

Yeah

I’m not saying sorry

**Patton:**

You two are being very difficult :(

**Virgil:**

idc

All of you will thank me later when I’ve proven I’m right

**Patton:**

It’s not about being right!

It’s about being nice to each other!

We’re famILY!

**Virgil:**

I have no intention of being “family” with someone who sneaks around behind our backs living some double life acting like a vigilante

**Patton:**

Huh

What does that mean?

**Virgil:**

Nothing.

**_(Seen by Patton Picani, 10:42 AM)_ **

—

_11:04 AM_

**_Pattoncake sent a GIF to the ‘I HATE IT HERE’ group chat_ **

**Pattoncake:**

Happy birthday, Janus!!!

**Sherlock:**

Happy birthday

**Sir Sings-a-Lot:**

_(Sends party emojis)_

**Trashboi:**

_(Sends a link to “Birthday Sex” by Jeremih)_

YOOOO

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BITCH

**Trashboi:**

HOPE YOU GET SOME TODAY

**Pattoncake:**

YEAH!

LOTS OF IT!

**Sir Sings-a-Lot:**

???

Pat??????

**Pattoncake:**

What?

We’re talking about cake right?

**Trashboi:**

That’s

Not

Yeah sure that’s what I meant

**Pattoncake:**

Have a great day today @Snakespeare! :D

It’s still not too late to celebrate with us!

**Trashboi:**

YEAH

LET’S GET DRUNKKKKK

AND HIGH

**_Trashboi sets Janus Dean’s nickname to BDAY HOE_ **

**BDAY HOE:**

Tasteful.

Thank you for your greetings.

_(Sends a “violent uwu” meme)_

**Sherlock:**

What’s “uwu”?

**Sir Sings-a-Lot:**

The kind of face @Pattoncake makes everyday

**Spedicey:**

Lol you don’t have to be mean to him

**Pattoncake:**

Awww!

THANK YOU ROMAN UWU

**Spedicey:**

wow ok nvm then

**Sherlock:**

I do not get it

**_Janus Dean sets his nickname to JD_ **

**Trashboi:**

Booooo

You whore

Anyway, ENJOY YOUR DAY

I know you will

 _(sends winking emoji)_ @Sir Sings-a-Lot

**Sir Sings-a-Lot:**

_(Sends confused hamster meme)_

**JD:**

I meant it. No surprises.

**Spedicey:**

Hmm

Funny that *you’re* saying that.

**JD:**

Is there something you’d like to share with the class, Rivers?

**Pattoncake:**

_(Starts spamming the chat with memes and GIFs)_

**_Seen by all at 11:27 AM_ **

—

_11:28 AM_

**Patton:**

ROMAN I’M SORRY AGEKSHSK

Please don’t pick a fight with Virgil pls

I’m handling it

**Roman:**

Don’t worry Pat

I won’t be giving him the satisfaction

**Patton:**

Okay :’(

He’s super willing to say sorry tho!!

He knows he was wrong

**Roman:**

LOL yeah sure, I’d believe it if he tells it to my face

I bet he’d love for me to say sorry first, like the whiny weasel he is

**Patton:**

Noooo that’s not true!

**Roman:**

Besides, he should be lucky that I’m in a good mood today. I won’t be letting anything sour my spirit!

**Patton:**

Oh, got any plans today? :)

**Roman:**

It’s a secret :>

**Patton:**

Aww :(

Well have a great day today!

**Roman:**

I definitely will!

**_(Seen by Patton Picani at 11:58 AM)_ **

—

_12:09 PM_

**Patton:**

VIRGIL.

Why’d you have to do that?

**Virgil:**

What now

**Patton:**

You’re getting too worked up over this...

You shouldn’t be mean to someone on his birthday!

**Virgil:**

Are birthdays a free pass to do anything?

**Patton:**

You know what I mean.

That’s it, I’m calling Janus

**Virgil:**

Don’t bother. You won’t like what he’s got to say about this whole issue.

**Patton:**

Why not??

You talked to him?

**Virgil:**

Yes. He called it “justice,” but I call it bullshit. It just goes to show that he’ll do anything if he gets something out of it.

**Patton:**

Is this true...?

**Virgil:**

Ask Remus. At least he believes me.

**_(Seen by Patton Picani, 1:15 PM)_ **

—

_1:23 PM_

**Patton:**

Hey Remus

**Remus:**

_(Sends meme)_

**Patton:**

_(Sends gif)_

**Remus:**

_(Sends meme)_

**Patton:**

_(Sends meme)_

Hey, wanna hang out today?

**Remus:**

No can do, Patsy

I got a date with Lo-Lo

**Patton:**

Oh okay

I just got a question

Virgil mentioned you and him go to clear things up with Janus...

But I’m still confused. I just wanna know what happened!

**Remus:**

Ah shit, I guess it’s time to kiss my balls goodbye

**Patton:**

WHAT??

**Remus:**

HAHA just kiddin

Anyway, I dunno Pat. I’m still trying to process it all too. Like, can something so wrong also be right? TBH I’m in a really confused state of mind and I’m THIS close to tearing all the hair out of my growing stubble strand by strand to focus on some excruciating pain other than this weird moral crisis I’m currently having

**Patton:**

Moral crisis? I can definitely help with that! Tell me everything and I can do something about it!

**Remus:**

I think I’ll figure this shit out on my own first... or ask Logie, he’s the smart one

**Patton:**

Oh okay...

Maybe I’ll ask Janus then

**Remus:**

DON’T TELL HIM THAT I SAID ANYTHING

**Patton:**

I WON’T

But...I’m still not getting an answer

Is everything okay? You know I can help, I always do! Let me know and I’ll do it!

**Remus:**

“Okay” would be an overstatement

And it’s cool, Pat, don’t worry about it. We’ve got it under control

Anyway, brb Lo’s looking for me

**Patton:**

Okay

Have fun!

**_(Seen by Remus King, 2:14 PM)_ **

—

_2:14 PM_

**Patton:**

I do believe you, Virgil

But this isn’t how we should be going about this

You’re being a tad bit...unreasonable :(

**Virgil:**

If you only knew what he said, Pat, you wouldn’t be defending him like this

He’s messed up. How can we keep someone who only thinks about himself around??

He’s hiding a lot of shit and I’ll be the one to find out. I’ll prove to you that I’m not crazy

**Patton:**

When did I ever say you were?? :(

Virgil come on

I don’t want us to fight too...

**Virgil:**

We’re not

**Patton:**

Let me help make this all right, okay?

But you need to stop being a jerk

Please?

What can I do?

**_(Seen by Virgil Rivers, 2:35 PM)_ **

—

_2:49 PM_

**Patton:**

Virgil?

—

**_Virgil Rivers missed a call from Patton Picani at 3:08 PM_ **

—

_3:16 PM_

**Patton:**

Hi Janus!

—

_3:25 PM_

**Patton:**

Hope you’re enjoying your birthday!

—

_3:32 PM_

**Patton:**

Heya Logan! :)

—

_7:35 PM_

**Logan:**

Hello, Patton.

Is there anything you need?

**Patton:**

Hi!

How are ya?

**Logan:**

I’m adequate.

Considering all things, at least.

**Patton:**

Well, I wanted to say sorry for what I said over at lunch the other day. I shouldn’t have hurt your feelings that way.

**Logan:**

My feelings weren’t hurt, but I appreciate your apology.

**Patton:**

That’s great!

So, I was thinking...

Things are getting out of hand between the fam...

I hope you aren’t shocked by what’s happening! This doesn’t happen at all! I don’t know what has gotten into Virgil, but I’ve got him under control now, so you don’t have to worry anymore.

I can fill you in on what’s happening though! Maybe you and I can work as a team to handle all this confusion :)

**Logan:**

I doubt you do have him under control.

Remus has already reached out for my help, so I will be taking the matter into my own hands now. I believe it’s the best course of action, considering that I am a neutral party.

Perhaps you should just focus on providing emotional support rather than trying to solve this problem.

Please don’t take that in the wrong way. I am merely stating facts.

I agree that your intentions are good. But right now, you are doing more harm.

Allow me to take over now. I shall mediate between them on Monday.

**_(Seen by Patton Picani, 7:52 PM)_ **

—

_8:23 PM_

**Janus:**

Thank you Patton

Nope I did not enjoy my birthday at all. It was absolutely horrendous.

**Patton:**

Oh no :(

It isn’t too late!! I can help brighten your day! :D

**Janus:**

I was being sarcastic

Lol

Though, I’m curious: how exactly would you brighten my evening?

**Patton:**

We can Facetime? Or Netflix watch party!

**Janus:**

Fun.

**Patton:**

Was that sarcasm or...

**Janus:**

Sorry, sweetheart.

Force of habit.

Facetiming and a Netflix watch party aren’t exactly my idea of “fun” but I’m sure you’d find ways to make it so.

You can call anytime.

**Patton:**

No, it’s alright!

Don’t wanna bore you haha :)

**Janus:**

I already said that it’s alright.

**Patton:**

I don’t want to assert myself when I’m not wanted

**_(Seen by Janus Dean, 9:10 PM)_ **

—

_9:22 PM_

**Patton:**

Just kidding!

Haha :)

—

_9:38 PM_

**Janus:**

“Just kidding”?

How convincing.

Hmm...

I am the worst person for this, but if you need anyone to talk to, my line is temporarily open for the night.

You /did/ want to be “closer” friends, and I happen to be in a cheery mood.

**Patton:**

I’m super okay!

:D

Anyway, I got some homework to finish!

Happy birthday again!

**Janus:**

If you insist.

**_(Seen by Patton Picani, 9:45 PM)_ **

—

_1:07 AM_

**Patton:**

Janus?

—

_1:20 AM_

**_(Patton Picani deleted the message)_ **


	25. Sympathy for the Duke (Saturday, Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Remus finally breaks down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stupid me forgot to add "part 1" to the title of the previous chapter. Anyway, "(Saturday)" is a three-parter told in different POVs. Guess what the next one would be. :> Anyway, getting waaaay ahead of myself, enjoy this chapter!
> 
> -
> 
> Title from "Moulin Rouge: The Musical"

Remus is also an expert at pretending he’s okay even if he truly isn’t. 

But as he enters Logan’s room that afternoon, he deflates and sits on the edge of Logan’s bed with no energy nor care to move.

In one day, everything he ever knew about his friends instantly crumbled to his feet. His happy little group, who he used to depend on for comfort and distraction from the gnawing feeling of loneliness, is now the source of his worries and, even worse, the main reason why he feels even _more_ alone.

Everyone is dividing into groups and he’s forced to take the side of someone who is clutching onto him like a lifeline. And Remus is weak to people like that—people who seek his help and depend on him for anything. It’s what gives him purpose. It’s what convinces him that he’s still worth something, even if the voices of self-loathing hound at the back of his mind telling him that he’s nobody.

But Remus never once stopped to think about asking help of his own.

“Logan,” he finds himself asking, “if you were in my situation, what would you do?”

Logan slowly sets a tray of glasses and a pitcher of water on top of his study table. He then turns to face Remus, slouched over and staring straight at the box contraption that housed their egg experiment, his eyes giving a faraway look.

“Oh, so you’re finally seeking my opinion? And here, I was thinking that it is unwelcome.” Logan says flatly. 

Remus matches his blank expression. “Are you gonna answer my question or are you just gonna have a hissy fit, Four Eyes?”

Logan sighs. “And what is your situation?”

“What is my situation?” Remus parrots. “Geez, where to begin? Caught between a rock and a hard place—except I’d much rather be stuck in a literal rock and a hard place, with the hard place being Chris Evan’s cock.”

Logan presses his lips into a thin line. “What a visual.”

“Instead,” Remus continues, “I’m caught between having to support Mr. My Chemically Imbalanced Romance’s manic obsession to prove Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Lies’s evil schemes, and having to consciously avoid breaking the trust of my bird-brained twin brother.” His face crumples with dismay. “Like, how do I even choose?!”

Logan leans his weight against the edge of his table, placing a hand on his jutted-out hip. “Why should you have a choice in the first place?”

Remus rolls his shoulders. “Because I obviously can’t do both.”

“Well, what are your honest feelings about the issue? Without considering anyone else’s opinions and your relationship with them.”

Remus’s jaw tenses. “I think...that Virgil is being a real dickhead about it. Instead of just having a decent conversation with Janus, he’s working his ass off to get us all to stage a mutiny.”

He stands. “Roman, though, is too protective of Janus—obvy—so he’s attacking Virge every chance he gets, which triggers Virge even more.”

He then begins to get increasingly more agitated as he continues to vent, “And then, we have Patton! Who wants us all to get along like we used to in middle school and bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles and everyone would eat and be happy!” He squints at Logan. “ _Mean Girls_ quote, if your uncultured ass couldn’t tell!”

Logan shrugs.

“Meanwhile, Janus is keeping so many secrets and acting major sus! You have no idea what he’s thinking or doing, and it’s terrifying. Like, he makes it so hard to trust him.” He sighs. “And I hate feeling it ‘cause Roman does. He trusts Janus with his fucking life, you know? And Janus was right; Roman would always believe him over me, even if he’s got absolutely no clue what’s going on. So, really, between me and Roman, who’s making the greater mistake?”

His arms fall slack on the sides of his body and he looks at Logan, annoyed and defeated. “Am I even talking sense?”

“You don’t trust any of them,” Logan answers simply.

“Is it wrong? I mean, there’s got to be someone wrong, right?”

“I don’t know, Remus. I can’t speak for any of them.” Logan strokes his chin in thought. “I don’t know what exactly Virgil saw, and I don’t know what Janus actually did. I mean, it’ll all be easier if you _did_ tell me.”

Logan raises his brows hoping Remus caught what he was insinuating. But when Remus says nothing, Logan rolls his eyes and massages his right temple. “What I _do_ know is that everyone is pointing fingers and avoiding each other instead of properly communicating. How did it even get this far? I never would have guessed that Virgil would be this...extra. That was the correct usage, right?”

“Yes, you dork,” Remus rolls his eyes. “Virgil’s sort of...had these tendencies, I think? Patton mentioned it way before. Like, bad anxiety and stuff. He’ll do anything to prove his bad feelings are right, and he’ll push anyone away when they say he’s wrong.”

Logan instantly remembers witnessing Virgil’s morning anxiety attack during his first sleepover. “I see.”

“Doesn’t help that he and Patton genuinely think that Janus is a bad influence. I just see him as a dickwad who only thinks about stuff he wants to do without any regard for how we feel about it. They’re scared of him!”

Logan considers this. “Interesting. Well, one could doubt his authenticity, especially around Roman.”

“I know right?” Remus pauses. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“Janus told me once that Patton specifically told him before to just keep telling Roman what he wants to hear for the betterment of the group. I didn’t think much of it, but seeing how Roman gets when he’s crossed or stood up against, I’ve realized just how much it shifts the group dynamic. He truly is a handful, isn’t he?”

Remus doesn’t say a word. A dozen emotions dance on his face and he slowly backs away, knuckles shaking and his trembling mouth mumbling words Logan cannot hear.

“Remus?” Logan says with confusion.

“Patton said that?” Remus chokes. “So, all this time, Janus has just been manipulating my brother? ‘Cause of _Patton_?”

Logan takes a step forward, holding out his hands with worry. “Oh, no. Remus, I don’t think it’s truly that way now. Patton had pure intentions, and he told him that long ago when Janus and Roman weren’t on very good terms. ‘Manipulating’ is such a heavy accusation.”

“Everyone’s just been fucking faking it and stabbing each other in the back for _years_?!” Remus is screaming wildly now. “None of this—this fucking group—is real?!”

“Remus, you are spiraling out of control. Calm down—”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down, this group is my life! They’re the only ones who accepted me! Who didn’t give a crap about what everyone fucking says!” He raises a fist in fury. “I don’t know who to believe anymore!”

He punches the wall and Logan jumps back, watching in complete shock as the box and their experiment topple over the desk and crashes with a thundering thud on his floor.

Remus freezes and stares at the box in horror. “Shit,” he whispers. “Logan...”

Logan lets out a long sigh, closing his eyes and massaging his temple. “Perfect.”

“I’m-I’m sorry—”

“Nothing we can do about it now, Remus.”

“We were so close…” His voice shakes and he gawks at Logan’s displeased expression. He claws the sides of his face in distress. “ _Shit!_ Shit, why can’t I do anything right?!”

“Could you please stop for a second and breathe?”

“I _killed_ it! I _ruined_ it! It’s all my fault, it’s _always_ my fault! I’m a shitty brother, I’m an even shittier friend, and if it wasn’t for me, dad would still be alive! _Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck!”_

Logan, alarmed by Remus’s sudden spiraling, closes the gap between them as he holds him firmly until his breathing stills and his shoulders relax. “Stop it, Remus. It’s alright. Don’t be mad at yourself for this.”

“I killed it, Logan,” Remus sobs on Logan’s shoulder. “It didn’t deserve to die that way.”

Logan bites back a remark about how it hardly counts as “killing” a chick when it has not yet fully developed into one. He doubts it is what Remus would be open to hearing at that moment. So he says instead, “Would you like to perform burial rites?”

Remus sniffs. “Yeah,” he whispers after a while. “Yeah, okay.”

Remus borrows a black coat from Logan’s closet while Logan switches his shirt for a black formal top and black tie. The spilled egg, which had actually, much to Logan’s pleasant surprise, started showing embryonic development, is placed inside an empty jar of Crofter’s and wrapped in newspaper before they head to Logan’s backyard where Remus digs up a small hole.

Logan places the wrapped-up jar inside the hole and Remus gazes at it with remorse, fighting back tears. “Here lies Lydia, who had unjustly suffered an untimely death in my hands,” he sighs wistfully. “She was a good egg. A product of mine and Logie’s stubborn perseverance to make this fucked up idea work. She was just a week old… died so young. I will miss her.”

Remus glances at Logan. “Would you like to say a few words?”

Logan recoils. “Uh,” he begins, “may she rest in peace.”

They replace the soil over the jar and Remus lays a cracked eggshell over it. They stare at the mound for a few minutes in silence.

“How are you feeling?” Logan asks after a while.

“Horrible, thanks for asking.”

Logan turns to face him. “About what you said earlier... would you like to talk about it?”

Remus says nothing, eyes still cast downward.

“It would help ease your burden,” Logan urges. “It seems that you haven’t spoken about your father to anyone before. I’m here to listen.”

Slowly, Remus lifts his head to glare at the sky. Logan presumes it’s because he’s preparing himself to say what has been hidden inside him; he nearly doesn’t notice that Remus is actually preventing the tears from falling from his eyes.

“We were mad at him for not bringing us to the ice cream parlor after exam day because he had scheduled a meeting,” he says quietly. “We wouldn’t talk to him. It was my idea for us not to. The next day, he went out to buy us toys as a surprise. He crashed into a truck.”

Logan stifles a gasp. “I’m terribly sorry. But it isn’t your fault. For you to say that it is, isn’t the correct way to cope with it.”

Remus curls his lips. “Sometimes, it’s easier to blame myself than to blame it on an accident.”

“That’s unhealthy.”

“Yeah.”

Logan shifts his weight from one foot to another, deep in thought. “You don’t talk to Roman about it, don’t you?”

This makes Remus wince. “I’m scared to think that...he blames me too for it.”

“He wouldn’t,” Logan answers. “But you’d never be at peace unless you speak honestly. In fact, it’s the same as the current situation we’re in. We’re all knee-deep in this mess because everyone is saying things but not actually talking.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Remus sighs and rubs the back of his head. “But no one’s listening. How the hell are we gonna fix this?”

Logan strokes his chin and hums. “Maybe it’s time for me to step in. I’ll talk to Janus and Virgil myself. I’m the neutral party, anyway. I believe it to be the best course of action.”

“You really think so?”

“I’m the newest in this group and, frankly, the only person mature enough to not get carried away by useless emotions. No offense.”

“None taken. Jerk.”

“I feel uncomfortable about it, but I must. That is, if they choose to listen to me.”

Remus stares at Logan before he slumps his shoulders in surrender. “You know, a lot of people are counting on me and it’s starting to feel like a lot of fucking pressure. I guess this lightens the burden a bit.”

Logan nods, feeling a sense of pride for being depended on for the first time to solve a problem. “So,” he says, “what would you like to do now?”

Remus shrugs. “Break stuff.”

“Anything else?”

“Smash my face on the wall?”

Logan places a hand on Remus’s shoulder. “How about we watch YouTube videos? It would be a healthy distraction from all of this. We can redo the experiment later.”

“Fine.” Remus rubs his eyes, pouting. “So, can we make out?”

“No.”

“Damn. Worth a shot.”


	26. And He Breaks (Saturday, Part Three)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Janus finally gets a good day for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

Roman generally wakes every morning already in a chipper mood. He’d leap out of his bed, draw the blinds of his bedroom window, and take a whiff of the fresh air to jolt his senses. Oftentimes, he’d break out into song and know instantly what certain mood his brother had based on the only two outcomes that follow: that Remus would join in as a second voice from across the hall or that Remus would launch a slew of curses in both English and Spanish.

Today, he isn’t about to find out because it’s 11 AM and Roman has yet to leave his duvet cocoon out of dread and anticipation for what he planned to do that afternoon.

His phone buzzes and he reaches for it from underneath his pillow; the group chat comes alive with birthday greetings for Janus, and Roman decides to keep it cool, sending a number of emojis.

He glances at a box neatly wrapped and ribboned on top of his desk as he mentally runs through his plan—the very same that Remus almost exposes on the chat.

“Motherfu—” Roman quickly sends a meme to play off what Remus said as a joke and ungracefully lands on his knee as he pushes himself off his bed to race towards the door. “I will end you!” he yells through the doorframe.

“Not before I die first, bitch!” he hears, muffled, from inside his twin’s room.

Roman huffs and counts to ten. Nope, nothing is going to sour his mood today, not when the chances of his ploy failing miserably is just about the same as the chances of it succeeding, and he’d like to maintain that equilibrium for the next few hours, thank you very much.

Roman had already been aware that Janus hated celebrating his birthday. The first time he even discovered when it was, was when he shared his leftover birthday cake with Janus at theater club (a year before Janus had been absorbed by his friend group) out of courtesy, and he had teased Janus about how he was positive Janus’s idea of celebrating would probably be planning a heist at the pet store downtown.

“An idea for next year,” Janus had replied, visibly pleased by the suggestion. 

“When is it anyway?” Roman had asked.

“October.”

Roman’s eyes bugged out. “But that was just a month ago!”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

The following year, it merely took Roman implying that they’re throwing a simple party for Janus for him to _oh so suddenly_ go on vacation on his birthday week.

The year after that, Roman tried to catch Janus off-guard, but the snake had dodged him so well that he gave up (after unceremoniously knocking over a few trash cans, denting a poor freshman’s locker, and sending Remus to detention—don’t ask what happened, if you know what’s good for you.)

Now that Janus’s birthday is on a Saturday, a week before their production, it presented the perfect opportunity for Roman to celebrate with his best friend—and he is certain that Janus has no escape this time.

At 2:30 PM, Roman takes his car to head to Janus’s house, his heart thumping rapidly. Within the 20 minutes that he drives, doubts steadily fill his head in the following order:

  1. Would he even be home?
  2. What if he escapes and leaves me waiting outside for hours?
  3. Why am I feeling terrified in the first place?
  4. This is normal for best friends, right? To genuinely want to spend their special day with them? This isn’t too ~gay~, is it?
  5. What the fuck am I saying, everything I do IS gay. I AM gay.



He stops along Janus’s neighborhood street and gives his mop of brown hair a once-over in the mirror. He freezes. _Holy Hera._ He suppresses the weird fluttering of his gut and dials a number on his phone.

On the fourth ring, Janus picks up.

“Hey!” Roman chirps. “You’re home now, right?”

Janus’s voice is low and cautious. “...why?”

“Okay, don’t get mad.”

“Roman.”

“But I’m here outside!”

“Oh my god.”

“Just get your butt in here and I’ll explain!”

“I have half a mind to keep you waiting there until you give up.”

Roman whines. “Stop being a sour puss, Jan. I don’t have anything big planned, alright? Just get over here.”

Janus groans and hangs up. After 10 minutes, Roman sees Janus approaching from the distance, hands curled into fists and brows knitted, but all dressed up and hair unmistakably styled in place that makes Roman snort, knowing that Janus still made an effort to get ready despite being resolute on not wanting to go out in the first place.

Janus swings open the passenger door and enters the car, hissing, “You better start explaining yourself, Roman.”

Roman laughs nervously. “Okay, so I know you don’t like surprises, so I decided...not to plan anything at all!”

Janus quirks a brow. “What.”

“I’m saying that you tell me where to go! I’ll merely act as your dashing driver and chivalrous companion.” Roman flashes him a wink.

Unimpressed, Janus reaches for the handle.

“Oh, come now!” Roman grabs his wrist. “Think of it as stepping out and riding an Uber to a department store or a dessert shop—wherever you desire! It technically isn’t a surprise, right? Loophole!”

Janus fixes him an icy glare. When Roman holds his gaze, unflinching, he hums. “I guess I do need a getaway driver if I’m going to heist a bank. Stay here, I’ll run back to grab my hammer.”

Roman sputters, “Wha—hey, no!” He locks the car doors and begins driving away, watching from the corner of his eye as Janus buckles his seatbelt with a huff.

“I was _obviously_ joking,” Janus grumbles. “Besides, we can’t use this car, it’s too flashy.”

“Har-har,” Roman says. “I’m just gonna start driving until you tell me where to go.”

“Fine. But I’m getting music rights.”

For the next 15 minutes, Roman drives around town, following Janus’s directions. It’s only when Janus instructs Roman to turn a certain corner that Roman stomps on the brakes.

“Wait a minute, you’re making me drive in circles!” he accuses, peering out his window to look at the storefront of a shoe store he swears he’s already passed by twice.

When Janus fails to respond to him, Roman looks at him with a pointed glare. “Well?”

Janus lifts up a hand and flashes his middle finger.

“Oh, will you lighten up? It’s your birthday, for Poseidon’s sake!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Janus remarks. “I’m actually _very_ enthusiastic about this.”

Roman is about to make a retort when he notices a glint in Janus’s eyes. He draws a sharp intake of his breath as he finally realizes, “You’re doing this on purpose. You want _me_ to choose.”

Janus smirks. “Is that what you think?”

“You know, on a normal day, your mind games are cute,” Roman tells him blankly. “But seriously, can’t you indulge me this _one_ afternoon of seeing you _actually_ enjoy yourself doing something you like?”

Janus quirks a brow. “This is for your own benefit, then?”

Roman is taken aback, his face growing red in embarrassment. “No, I mean...I didn’t mean...”

Janus starts laughing, waving his hand. “I’m just teasing, doll.” He sighs as his giggles die down and brings out his phone. “Fine, since you’re so insistent. Bring me to the secondhand bookstore near Curator Café. It’s 10 minutes away, I think.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Roman says with a smile as he hits the gas.

They arrive at BookEnds, a small but well-lit place with brick walls and skylight windows. Tons of potted plants decorate the tables and shelves were stacked high with different books, most of them pre-owned. It was like stepping into a greenhouse transformed into a library, and Roman couldn’t help but marvel at its beauty.

“I can’t believe I’ve never been here before! You should have told me about this place!” He tells Janus in an excited whisper.

“I forgot you knew how to read,” answers Janus with a cheeky grin.

They spend nearly an hour perusing through books in separate sections and Roman, satisfied with his browsing, finds Janus in the middle of the floor, standing beside the non-fiction table, reading a thick book of curated essays published in _The New Yorker_ , glowing underneath the light that streams through the ceiling windows.

Roman feels a pinch in his chest as he gazes upon his friend—handsome, well-dressed, intelligent, and confident. Jealousy gnaws at his brain: _why can’t I be him?_ A thought Roman’s always had during these moments when he sees Janus for who he is when he isn’t putting on a show—stripped bare of the layers that have made him an enigma to anyone he meets, apart from Roman. Never Roman.

Roman wants to turn away and nurse the insecurity he feels but he finds himself still watching, even as Janus begins to notice him and stares back with a questioning look.

He shudders as he approaches, asking, “Find anything good?”

“No,” Janus says, deadpanned. “They’re all shit.”

Roman looks down at the pile of books Janus was tapping his fingers on. “You’re getting all _that_?”

Janus falters and sheepishly brings out his wallet to peek inside. “Err, give me a minute.”

In the end, after much internal debate, Janus walks out with the book of _New Yorker_ essays and a copy of Jack Gilbert poems with browning pages.

“Where to next?” Roman asks him, putting his hands inside his jacket pockets.

Janus shrugs. “I don’t know. Any suggestions?”

“You really have nowhere else in mind that you’d like to go?”

“I’ve had my fill of consumerism for the day.”

Roman laughs and hooks his arm around Janus’s. “To the park, then!”

They walk to the nearby park and Roman sprints towards the grass, letting himself fall backward to lie on the cold soil. The sky, bright and cloudy and blue, fills his chest with warmth and peace. Janus sits beside him, taking in the cool breeze that blows gently around them. Roman feels like he could stay in this moment forever, when the world seems to slow around him and all the burden he carries on his shoulders dissolves into nothingness.

“Can I tell you something super weird?” Roman asks.

“Oh, _please_ do,” Janus replies.

“When Rem and I were still kids, we’d like to lie on the grass a lot like this and talk about this kingdom of our own imagining where we both ruled. We took turns thinking up of things we’d find in that kingdom, like a Dragon Witch, a Manticore Chimera, dolphins—anything. It’s been years since we last did it but, sometimes, when I lie alone staring at the sky, I still dream about that kingdom and continue the stories in my head.” Roman closes his eyes. “I’d be dressed in white with a red sash, wielding a beautiful sword, riding a Pegasus through open fields. And I’ll feel so free, even if that world only exists in my head—instantly gone when I open my eyes.”

Janus tilts his head to the side. “That was underwhelming. I truly expected you to share something blackmail-worthy.”

“You don’t find anything odd with my delusions of grandeur?”

“Well, we all want an escape from reality.” Janus shrugs. “But the sooner we accept that we never will be able to, try as we may, the quicker the initial pain from our lifelong suffering will last.”

Roman props himself up with his elbows. “Is your outlook on life always going to be this bleak?”

“Oh, honey, there is no other way to be.” Janus draws in a breath and closes his eyes. “Chaos and agony persist all around us. How can one afford to revel in such blissful fever dreams?”

“Because it’s in dreaming that we find hope to continue living.”

“And what if those dreams never come true?”

“Simple!” Roman smiles smugly. “Find a new dream.”

Janus scoffs at that. “Oh, to be happily ignorant and simpleminded.”

“Ouch. I think you should stop being cynical for once. It’s gonna get you wrinkles.” Roman sits up and plucks the blades of grass that have stuck onto his jersey jacket sleeve. “Do you even _have_ a dream? I mean, you _must_!”

Janus waves his hand dismissively. “Sorry to burst your bubble, sweetheart.”

“Really? Even the rapscallions of the Ugly Duckling in _Tangled_ had dreams!”

“I aspire to overthrow our government someday. Does that count?”

Roman groans and throws his head back. “Your cynicism astounds me. Why do I tolerate you?”

“Hm, I’ve always thought it was because you wanted to keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” Janus teases with a sly grin. “If it makes all the difference, it’s still quite an honor to be _so worthy_ of the campus Prince’s time and attention.”

“Okay. Now I remember.” Roman makes a beckoning gesture with his right hand. “Compliment me more, peasant.”

Janus’s laugh, light and airy, somehow makes Roman’s heart skip a beat.

After a while, Roman stands and helps pull Janus up, and they walk back to the car to head to one last place—up on top of a hill overlooking the town which blazes in red and orange as the sun slowly sets on the horizon.

They gaze at the view, leaning their backs against the side of the Honda Fit.

“Well,” Janus begins, “this day wasn’t so bad after all.”

Roman shoots him a teasing grin. “And you didn’t want to celebrate.”

“I still don’t.”

“You’re allowed to have fun sometimes. What would you have done today, stay in your room and read?”

“ _A Me Party_ ,” Janus sings mockingly, in reference to The Muppets Movie.

Roman rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you like celebrating anyway?”

“Why bother? It’s just an excuse to have grand feasts, expect people to spend money on gifts for you, and get away with acting like you’re the most important person in the room.”

“Jesus Christ Superstar, what happened to you when you were a child?”

Janus smirks but doesn’t respond.

A comfortable silence settles between them as the sky slowly turns into a vivid violet with the sun disappearing from view.

Roman purses his lips and reaches inside his jacket’s inner pocket. “I got you something.”

“Roman—”

“I _know_ , ‘no surprises’, but I couldn’t resist!” He takes out a slim square carefully gift-wrapped and hands it over to his scowling friend. “Maybe look at it first before pushing me off a cliff?”

Janus grunts as he stares at the gift. Gingerly, he unwraps it, and his scowl instantly turns into a look of surprise when he sees what is inside.

On his hands, a small enamel pin of a yellow two-headed snake glistened.

Roman smiles brightly as he watches Janus gape at it, lifting it, turning it over, and caressing it with his thumb. “Not gonna lie, I screamed when I saw it online. It’s perfect for you,” he says.

Janus swallows hard as he mutters, “Roman... you shouldn’t have.”

Roman shrugs. “Happy birthday.”

Janus looks at him and lets himself smile—the most genuine and tender Roman has ever seen on him—before clutching the fabric of his black turtleneck to pin it on himself. “You are unbelievable,” he tells Roman.

Roman gently touches the snake as soon as Janus is done putting the pin in place—on the left side of his chest, over his heart.

“This is a trick for me to be nice to you during our dress rehearsal, isn’t it?” Janus huffs.

“ _Will you?_ ” Roman asks, not believing it for a second.

Janus chuckles. “You’re right, I never am.” 

The sky darkens and Roman looks down on his watch. “Well,” he says, “time to bring you home as promised.”

“Finally,” Janus answers with a roll of his eyes, trying to hide the quick look of disappointment that flashed on his eyes—but Roman sees it anyway.

The drive home is filled with ruckus as they play a Doja Cat album on full blast, with Roman singing and dancing along in his seat and Janus humming and silently placing bets with himself whether today would be the day they’d get pulled over for: 1) speeding, 2) playing loud music, or 3) skidding the car in every corner.

As always, Roman gets away with his _impeccable_ driving and they manage to reach the street near Janus’s house in one piece and ticketless.

Roman slows to a stop in front of the white house that he always drops Janus off at and he quickly jumps out of the car to open the passenger door, making a grand bow as Janus steps out.

“Excellent service,” Janus quips. “5 stars.”

“Spare a tip?” Roman jokes.

“Your life is the tip,” Janus answers, “for blatantly ignoring my one birthday wish.”

Roman parrots Janus’s statement in a mocking tone. “Admit it, I finally outsmarted you.”

“Oh, woe is me. Defeated by the amazing Roman King. How will I ever show my wretched face to the world again?” 

“Fuck you.”

Janus smirks and rolls his shoulder. He turns away slightly, his jaw tensing as he deliberates what to say next. “I never got to say thank you,” he tells Roman quietly.

Roman places a warm hand on Janus’s shoulder. “Not even whiny bitches like you deserve to be alone on their special day. Besides, I’ve been trying to celebrate it with you for years. You failed to elude me this time!”

“Why do you insist on going through these lengths just for lil ol’ me?”

“Uhm, duh? Because we’re friends. I don’t need any better reason than that. You’ve been so great to me, even when I wasn’t at the beginning. You’ve been nothing but nice and supportive.” Roman runs his hand through his hair quickly, getting a bit flustered by his show of sincerity. “I really appreciate you. I hope I’ve been just as great of a friend to you too. You can trust me with anything...because I trust you.”

Janus’s brain short-circuits, the choice of words not lost on him. He feels a strange sort of lightness in his chest where he thinks he should feel guilt and his face softens, something small and sincere reaching his eyes. “You’re such a sap,” he hisses.

“I _am_ Prince Charming, darling,” Roman teases, mimicking the way Janus talks.

Janus shakes his head in disbelief, chuckling to himself.

What he does next, however, makes Roman’s heart stop.

Often, Roman and Janus teeter close to a metaphorical line that they both never dare to cross.

At that moment, underneath the glow of the streetlamp, Roman feels himself being pushed off, hurling headfirst down into the great unknown. He is falling.

He is falling.

His breath hitches as a thunderous storm rages inside his chest in reaction to Janus enveloping him into a warm embrace. It only lasts for a second—a brief hug to express his gratitude—but to Roman, time had frozen in place. He didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to say goodbye.

Janus takes a step back, fixing his hair and clearing his throat. “Well, that’s enough sappiness to last me a lifetime.” He pats Roman’s chest and walks past him, bidding him a good night. 

Roman turns around and watches Janus walk away, feeling his fingers shake and his mouth run dry. In a panic, he briskly jostles to the front door of his car and, after struggling with the seatbelt, drives home at the maximum allowed speed.

Within 10 minutes, he arrives, slamming the front door behind him and making a beeline to Remus’s bedroom.

He doesn’t flinch when Remus screams in surprise as he swings open the door. He ignores the questions and curses being thrown at him, and he lunges forward to lie on Remus’s bed, grabbing the pillow and squeezing it tightly to bury his red face onto it.

“Ro? Hey, don’t ignore me!”

Remus yanks the pillow off of Roman and roughly turns him over to his back to look at him in the eye. But as soon as Remus sees Roman’s face, he falls back in shock.

“Wait. I know that face. I _know_ that face.”

Roman sits upright, letting out jagged breaths. “Rem, I...”

He never gets to finish his sentence that night because, as soon as Remus opens his arms, he breaks, throwing himself onto him and sobbing loudly until all the weight in his chest from years of bitterness and jealousy and confusion and denial gushes out until there is nothing left but pure, tender, wonderful love.


	27. All I've Ever Known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Roman gay panics and Remus is pretty much over it at this point

The first time Roman fell for a boy was when he was six years old. The boy had told Roman that they liked his light-up shoes and thought his bear shirt was really neat.

The second time was for a kid from summer camp who held his hand on the way to the lake.

The third time was for his snarky new friend, his dark clothing, and his frequent use of the nickname “Princey” with a playful tone that sent his stomach somersaulting. 

He didn’t expect his fourth to turn out this way.

The one thing Roman would never admit to anyone is that the only reason he was stopping himself from falling for Janus Dean is that he’s afraid—of never being enough, of rejection, of hearing people look at him with judgment saying, “That guy chose _him_?”

Roman is too proud for his own good. He thinks that closing himself off from disappointment and heartbreak will make him happy. He learned the hard way to not fall for a friend. Since then, he’s traumatized by Valentine’s Day Cards and glitter glue and feeling a spark when he gets too close.

Now, it’s all become a great big mess. His insides are churning in every possible direction, his heart is banging against his ribcage, and his hot tears are flowing out like an endless river. He holds his brother like a lifeline as though begging to save him, to take him away from this pain—this pain of hoping that it’s going to turn out well this time, that he can give himself wholly to Janus and be welcomed with a firm embrace.

Roman had forced his feelings down all these years because he didn’t want them to start a fire within him. Roman believed love was falling for a person at first glance. With Janus, it is happening far too many years too late and with a history that isn’t the kind you’ll boast about on your wedding day.

But if Roman was being honest, he should have seen this coming. He had given Janus his first kiss at a party, after all—a stupid split-second decision his drunken brain had pushed him to do at the time. (A hot upperclassman had been flirting with him and, ever the sucker for a clichéd romance, he refused to lose his first kiss to a complete stranger so, out of panic that he would be too drunk to control himself from the next cute guy he’d meet, he grabbed Janus by the shoulders and smashed their lips together.) Neither of them had been willing to bring that up ever again.

Remembering that moment, about a year ago, made it even harder for Roman to breathe. He sits upright and grips the sheets, eying Remus playing with his stuffed octopus absentmindedly and waiting for Roman to speak.

“You should have seen the way he looked at me, Rem,” Roman whispers. “He was so happy. He looked so different. If I could freeze that moment in time, I would; I would play it over and over again, watching the setting sun caress his profile as though the gods are blessing their perfect child.”

Remus snorts. “That’s the sappiest thing I ever heard. But your weird poetic oration settles it—you’ve got it hard, bro.”

Roman sighs wistfully. “Oh, to see those eyes again.”

“Boy, you literally went from wanting nothing to do with him to wanting to eat him whole. I’m dying to know what the epiphany was like.

Roman grabs Remus’s shoulder and gazes at him with intensity. “He hugged me,” he says, “and it was the most freeing thing in the world!”

“A hug?!” Remus replies with incredulity. “Every gay thing you and Janus did together, and it’s a hug that gets you?”

Almost instantly, memories play in rapid speed inside Roman’s mind: evening drives, duets, sharing beds in sleepovers, drinking from each other’s straw, nicknames, gifts, teasing, the kiss—

Roman reels from it all, burying his blushing face on the palms of his trembling hands. “Kill me. Please kill me.”

Remus throws his octopus to hit Roman on the side of his head. “So, what now? Are you going to tell him?”

“No.” Roman shakes his head furiously. “No, no, no, no. I can’t. He can’t know. Remus, how long does it take to drive to the Grand Canyon and throw myself off the edge?”

“I dunno, but bring me with you so that I can watch.”

Roman looks at him and squints his eyes. “You’re being oddly calm about this.”

Remus shrugs. “Hey, I mean if you don’t want Janus to know you’re finally in love with him then that’s cool.”

“That’s all you ever wanted.”

Remus sniffs. “Well, I dunno what to tell you, Ro. I push you to admit it, and you get mad. I step away, and you still don’t like it. What do you want me to do?”

Roman messes his hair in frustration. “Look, I’m sorry for the things I said. But you’re my brother, I could never stay mad at you. I need you to help me through this! I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to move forward now with these emotions. Help me, Rem. What now?”

Remus looks askance. He knows he would have helped his brother right away, no questions asked, if this had only happened a week prior. He would have leaped for joy, would have helped Roman draft a plan to sweep Janus off his feet and strike an arrow into his cold heart. But right now, Remus can only feel bitterness and fear rising up his throat. Funny how he never noticed that it’s only when Janus isn’t there that Roman seeks Remus’s help. _Delightful_ how Remus doesn’t trust Janus at all now and is scared of Roman getting hurt in the end. _Absolutely perfect_ that Roman is depending on his sincere advice and Remus, despite his honest feelings, can’t afford to break his heart.

“Okay,” Remus says slowly. “Well, you should tell him when you’re ready, and I don’t think you are yet. And anyway, you’ve got a play coming next week. Unless you wanna ruin over a month’s worth of hard work, then by all means. I’d love to see you start ugly crying all your makeup off onstage.”

Roman cringes. “That’s true.”

“And hey, maybe you’re just feeling this because you gays had fun today,” Remus shrugs. “Maybe it’s a fleeting crush. Give it a few days and it’ll probably be gone.”

That makes Roman tilt his head to the said. “Wait, I’m confused…” he says. “You would have popped soda bottles and made a french fry pool for us to swim in if I ever admitted to you that I like Janus.” He playfully shoves Remus’s arm. “What the hell is wrong with you right now?”

Remus shoves him back. “Hey, you’re the one who said you’d rather jump over a cliff than confess your feelings.”

“I was being dramatic! You know that about me! How could you do a complete 360 about your opinion?”

“It’s ‘180’ you fucktard. And what do you want me to say? ‘Cause every time I open my damn mouth, you always take it against me.

Roman flinches at his tone and, for a moment, Remus braces himself for another quarrel. But Roman looks away and whispers, “I’m sorry Rem.”

 _Well, fuck._ Remus rubs the back of his head angrily. He wishes he could tell Roman exactly what his thoughts are without fear that Roman would take it the wrong way and get defensive. At the same time, he wishes he hadn’t been dragged by Virgil into this convoluted mess and making him an accomplice to his plot to…at this point, Remus isn’t even sure anymore what Virgil is trying to do.

“Look, tell him or don’t—my opinion shouldn’t matter,” he croaks. “It’s your quest for love. Whatever you choose, I’ll support it.”

Roman nods slowly. “Okay. But if I did, do you think...do you think he’ll like me back?”

Remus rolls his eyes at that. “Who wouldn’t, Ro-Ro?”

“Remmy.”

Remus looks at him in surprise. Roman hasn’t called him that for so long.

_Jesus in a flipping buttcrack._

“God, you spineless twit.” Remus looks at Roman dead in the eyes. “Do we even know the same bitch? With that face and slick tongue, Janus can pretty much get any guy he wants, _if_ he wanted. I’ve seen the way he looks at people and the way people look at him. And yet he’s always running right back to you.” He sniffs. “If that isn’t enough evidence that he’s waiting for you to grow some fucking balls and ask him out already, then I dunno what is.”

Roman offers a timid smile. “Right. Okay.” Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he asks, “Uh, can I stay here for a while?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Roman lies down with his head next to Remus’s hip, and he lets his tears fall quietly in the silence they share. Remus stares at Roman, and he is reminded of all those moments when they were kids when Roman would always rest his head on Remus’s lap when he felt down. Remus would stroke his brown hair, telling him how people are assholes and that they should just become pixies in the forest. Then they would make costumes out of art paper and crayons and run around in their garden until Roman forgets what he had been sad about.

Remus thinks he’s scared of Roman suddenly falling now for Janus because of his growing distrust given the current circumstances. In actuality, Remus is terrified because this makes it official: that Roman isn’t going to need him anymore. Roman hasn’t been, for the past years that he attached himself to the hip of his best friend. Janus has done everything Remus has throughout his life, but better: lifting Roman’s spirits, making his confidence grow, watching musicals and reading poetry, and defending him against bullies in the hallways. How could Remus ever compete?

But is Remus willing to let his younger twin go to a guy he doesn’t know the true intentions of?

“If he hurts you,” Remus says sullenly, “I’m going to kill him.”

Roman chuckles, and he sighs. “What if I’ve lost my chance, Rem? Just ‘cause I was a stubborn idiot who didn’t want to believe he could ever be with someone like me?”

Remus curls his lip upward. Well, fake or not, if he could give Roman this temporary comfort in the hope of a happy ending, then he’s willing to go against his gut and give it. “You _are_ a stubborn idiot. But I think you both have that connection that’s really special. Like the cloyingly sweet, barf in your mouth, tingle in your gut kind of special. You’re really happy around him, and I’m betting my spleen that he’s happy around you too. He’s stuck around your annoying ass for this long, right? It’s gonna work out. Trust me.”

Roman smiles and wipes the tears off his eyes. He rolls onto his back to look up at Remus’s face. Teasingly, he says, “We _did_ kiss at that party last year, by the way.”

Remus glowers. “I fucking knew it, you bastard! Are you finally going to tell me what happened?”

“Eh,” Roman snickers. “Maybe if you asked _nicely_.”

Remus realizes he doesn’t need to as Roman begins to gush about the memory, probably distorted now that he’s reminiscing through rose-colored glasses and a heart full of affection. He notes the glint in his eyes and the dimples on his cheeks and knows that he has never seen Roman like this before, completely smitten and stripped bare of inhibitions. Remus wants to punch a wall if only to rid himself of the guilt that gnaws at his chest.

He chews the inside of his cheek. _I’m sorry, Roman_ , he says in his head. _This isn’t going to end well._


	28. Gray and Gray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Patton and Emile talk.

Patton stares at the ceiling.

He’s been up for a long time—maybe hours now—but he can muster no strength nor will in his body to get up.

There is nothing going through his head; just a certain heaviness weighing deep inside him that’s tying him down to his mattress, surrounded by an audience of stuffed animals that watch him closely, anticipating his next move and placing silent bets on what will trigger his tears this time.

Well, they’re wrong about that! Patton doesn’t cry. Patton is just tired. Patton is just admiring the whiteness of his ceiling and loving the feel of his blanket on top of his tiny body. Patton isn’t sad. Patton is just—

A knock wakes him from his dazed reverie and he turns his head to see his father peeking through the crack of the door. “Heya, kiddo, just checking in on you. You never came down for breakfast.”

“Oh!” Patton sits up (with difficulty, though he’d never admit it) and glances at the clock. It’s nearly lunchtime. “I guess I overslept. I’ll prep our lunch now!”

Emile tilts his head. “Are you sure? I can call for takeout!”

“I’m okidoki artichokey!” Patton says with a grin, jumping to his feet. “Got a hunch what our lunch is gonna be?”

Emile gasps theatrically. “Is it Patton’s Pan-tastic Pasta?”

“No, chicken salad.”

“Oh.”

Patton ends up making pasta anyway knowing that his father likes it when he does. He makes it perfectly, as Emile always says. Patton has no heart to disappoint him.

From the corner of his eye, he watches Emile flip through his paper and humming the opening song of _Kipo and the Age of the Wonderbeasts_. Suddenly, his eyebrows shoot upward. “Oh, that’s great news.”

Patton sets down his spoon on top of the pot. “What is?”

“This wanted pedophile up north in the city was caught a week ago. He matched the records when he admitted himself to the hospital for a stab wound.”

“That’s a relief!”

Emile nods. “Some college kids did it. Terrible how we seem to be more reliant on the youth to protect themselves nowadays.”

Something about that makes Patton’s insides twist into knots. Absentmindedly, he finishes the pasta and plates it up on two large dishes for himself and Emile. Emile lights up when he looks at his lunch and says, “A fine meal for Emile! You deserve a Patt-on the back, kiddo!”

Patton smiles at that. He feels like he should make a joke himself too. But his mind wanders along to the growing buzz in his ear from the familiar weight bearing down once more on his shoulders.

“Oh,” Emile suddenly says. “It’s kind of salty.”

“Oh no! Guess I had put a Pat-ton of salt back there!” Patton answers with a laugh.

At least, that’s what he thought he did.

“Kiddo,” Emile says softly when he is met with silence, “why are you crying?”

Patton blinks. He realizes that tears have started to roll down his cheeks. “Huh?” he touches them gingerly, staring at his wet fingertips with wide eyes.

Emile watches him, patiently waiting for Patton to speak. He doesn’t move close. He doesn’t talk. He gives Patton the space to open up. It surprises Patton, knowing how his father could be when it came to his patients—always talking over them, always making references and jokes, always leading conversations to the heart of the issue. This time, Emile waits.

It doesn’t sit well with Patton at all.

“I think something got in my eye!” he giggles, standing from his chair. He makes a beeline for the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Staring at the mirror on top of the sink is like a punch to his gut. He stares at his reflection, completely unrecognizable—a frown, tear-stained cheeks, red eyes, and a wrinkled forehead. Who is this person? Why is Patton inside his body?

Patton forces a smile. It falls quickly.

_Snap out of it!_

He turns the faucet open and splashes cold water on his face. _Snap out of it. Snap out of it._ Turning it off, he wipes his face with the towel hanging on the rack on top of the toilet. Then, with one more look at the mirror, he leaves, heading back to the dining table where Emile is still waiting.

“Kiddo, we should talk.”

Serious voice. Patton bites his lip and sits down.

“Would you like to tell me how you’re feeling right now?” Emile says, his voice like honey. “What’s going through your mind?”

_Where to begin? Do I even want to? He’ll be so disappointed._

“I’m asking as your father, Patton, not as a doctor. If that makes it easier.”

_Why would he think it would be? What should I say? Of course, focus on a different problem!_

“Something has been going on with my friends lately,” he answers. “I’m doing my best to resolve it, but it’s not going the way I was hoping.”

Emile nods. “What happened?”

“Janus was—no, Virgil _claims_ he saw Janus do something wrong, so now he doesn’t trust him. He got Remus on his team too. Meanwhile, Roman is getting mad at them both, because he’s on Janus’s side. Everyone’s been fighting since then.”

“‘Wrong,’ huh?” Emile tilts his head.

“Well, wrong in the sense that it isn’t something a person should do?”

Emile considers this. “And, knowing this, you’re not okay?”

Patton blinks. “What?”

“You’re not okay?”

He’s caught off-guard. “No.”

“How does this fighting make you feel?”

Patton gives a lopsided grin. “Dad...”

Emile catches his breath. “Ah, I’m sorry. If you don’t want to tell me, it’s alright. As soon as you’re ready to talk about it, you’ll bring it up.”

Somehow, Patton is filled with guilt when he says that. But before he could even wallow in this remorse, Emile hums. “A morally wrong act, you say? Did it harm anyone?”

“I think...he helped people who wanted to hurt someone bad.”

“Someone bad?”

“Yeah. He helped them get ‘justice’, and Virgil didn’t like how it happened.”

Emile taps his chin. “Well, now I understand why everyone isn’t on the same page.”

Patton perks up. “You do?

“Yes. There is something I remember from _Teen Titans_ that I believe can be applied here.”

“ _Teen Titans Go_?”

Emile gasps as if taking in all the air in their space. “No, kiddo. _Teen Titans_. We do not talk about _Teen Titans Go!_ ”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, so in _Teen Titans_ , Robin contemplates on Gray and Gray Morality. _‘There is Good, and there is Evil, but the line between them can be almost impossible to find. Does one good deed make him a hero? Am I to blame for all of it because of a single mistake? In the end, all I really know is that the answers don't come easy. It's supposed to be simple. But it’s not.’”_

Emile clasps his hands together. “Just because someone does something bad doesn’t make them a totally bad person, just as a good person isn’t completely incapable of doing bad things. We are all equally inclined to do good and bad. What it all boils down to is how often they do bad things and the ‘why’ behind them.”

“Why?” Patton repeats.

“Yes. Why did he do it? Is it because someone told him to, or is it because he thought it would lead to something that would benefit him? Was it really for malicious intent or because he believed it was the right thing to do? We all have our own motivations for doing things and, sometimes, it can be for selfish reasons. So really, who are we to judge someone for their choices?”

“But what if he believes it was right, but we believe it’s wrong? Because I still believe you’re not supposed to hurt people even if they’re bad. Janus and I have never seen eye to eye on those kinds of stuff...”

“See, kiddo, there are people who are not going to agree with you on your opinions. Difficult questions don’t have simple answers. You can’t see things black-and-white. It’s all gray. And that’s okay! You just need to make the effort to understand.”

Patton mulls over this. “But not agreeing is what’s driving a wedge in our friendship. If we’re just ‘understanding’ each other, then no one is really happy, right?”

“If all of us thought the same way about everything—love, religion, death, politics—then we’d be convinced that our thinking is the absolute truth. That nothing we believe can ever be wrong.” Emile’s eyes are glossed over with passion. “But isn’t being proven wrong the most beautiful experience of humanity? To learn and to grow? ‘Cancel culture’ is not the way to do that. If you don’t agree, then talk. You’ll both learn something new by hearing each other out.”

Patton chews the inside of his mouth. Everything his father said is true. Janus may not always be a good person, but he has always been a good friend. He believes that now, and he will stand by it! But how can he convince the others if they’re not willing to listen?

Emile taps his chin. “I may not know what Janus did and I don’t expect you to tell me. But genuinely ask yourself this: is what he did enough of a reason to end your friendship?”

He looks directly into his father’s eyes, confident and resolute. “No. Of course not! My gut says... I want to trust Janus. His views on what’s ‘right’ may not mesh with mine, but I’m willing to see what makes his view on the world so different. I was wrong to make him feel unwanted the first time. He has been nothing but a good friend to us. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

Emile offers a warm smile. “Then do that. Compassion and communication will always triumph any adversity.”

“But what do I do if I can’t change the way the others are feeling about this?” Patton grimaces. “Virgil especially. He’s been so worked up about it. He doesn’t want to listen to me now either.”

“It _is_ tough,” Emile ponders. “But you have to be patient. Don’t force it. You can’t change the way people think by yourself, bud. You want to, but you won’t be able to. They have to do it themselves.”

“But, you know,” he continues, “if they’re true friends, they won’t let simple things like these ruin years of friendship.”

Patton shakes at that. “I just wanted to help them. I promised myself to make them happy.”

Emile tilts his head and says, “You can’t make everyone happy, kiddo.”

“But I want to. It’s all I’ve ever known to do.

“Me too, bud.” Emile reaches out to pat Patton’s hands. “I want so badly to make everyone I meet feel better too. But we won’t be able to if we force it. No one wants to be fake happy.”

Patton averts his gaze, trying to process his father’s words. Emile gives him a forlorn look. “Is this what’s making you unhappy?”

When his son doesn’t reply, he stands and makes his way to the pantry cabinets where he pulls open the door and takes out a carton of chocolate chip cookies. He stifles a laugh when he sees Patton’s eyes light up, and he sets the box down in front of him. 

“You shouldn’t do this to yourself, okay? Remember Steven during the last season of _Steven Universe_ , when he felt like he lost his purpose of fixing things when he realized there is nothing left to fix? It almost destroyed him, didn’t it?” He strokes the back of Patton’s head. “You’re allowed to ask for help too, bud.”

Patton slowly nods his head and Emile pulls him into a tight embrace.

“You know, I really see myself in you. Always putting others first, no matter how much it hurts. But you shouldn’t be like your dad. Be you! My happy peppy Pattoncake.” He kisses Patton’s cheek and Patton giggles in defiance.

“Dad, I’m 16!”

“I don’t care. You’re still my boy!” He laughs. “You’re the one good thing that came into my life. I love you, always.”

Patton beams with warmth. He knows there's still so much left unsaid, so much he's hiding from his father. But for now, this is enough. “I love you too.”

He'll get there in time.


	29. 'Til Someone Gets Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things are revealed in the end.

Logan balances his books on top of his left arm as he reads from his notebook that he has clipped between his fingers, absentmindedly walking down the hallway to first period. Suddenly, a hand pushes from underneath his arm that sends his books flying and his body slamming against the wall.

“Watch where you’re going, nerd!” a punk kid cackles with two other friends flanked on both his sides.

Logan grimaces as he rubs his sore shoulder and almost misses how Janus suddenly steps out from the corner and stands next to the three, eying them up and down.

“What, Dean, got something to say?” the kid barks.

“No, but I love that you’re threatened,” Janus answers with nonchalance. “And goodness, Logan, shouldn’t you know _not_ to read while walking?”

“I’ll take that comment in stride,” Logan replies just as coolly before he bends down to collect his books.

Janus then turns to face the three still scowling at them. “Are you waiting for something?”

“Uh…”

Janus rolls his eyes and walks away, with Logan following quickly behind.

“Your timing was adequate.”

“I doubt those idiots were going to beat you up, so my timing wouldn’t have affected anything.” 

“I didn’t mean that. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“It seems that everyone has been wanting to talk to me these days. I didn’t take you for someone who wanted to help stir the pot.”

“I don’t. But what am I to do when everything continues to derail like this? I, for one, am starting to get peeved.”

“Glad I am not alone in feeling so then.”

Logan stops in his tracks. “I am doing them all a favor by asking you plainly,” he says. “Are you a dangerous person?”

This makes Janus snicker. “Not the question I was expecting. Define dangerous, dear.”

“Are you working with-slash-for people who are known to harm others, whether it was a one-time thing or a consistent happenstance, and, if so, is any of our safety, including yours, in jeopardy?”

Janus juts out his bottom lip and taps his chin in a show of deep thought. “Yes and no.”

“Yes to the first question and no to the second?”

“No. ‘Yes and no’ to both questions.”

Logan blinks. “I fail to comprehend.”

“Gray areas, darling,” Janus shrugs. 

Logan grimaces. It wasn’t like he was expecting this conversation to be simple, but Janus was purposely making it more complex than it should be. And Logan didn’t like it when things are complex. He’d rather shoot straight, with no detours or stopovers. It’s probably one of the reasons why he and Janus were never truly able to keep a proper friendship. Janus is just too elusive of a person, but given the opportunity, Logan thinks they would really be able to get along the most. After all, Janus is brilliant; he just tends to pick and choose the information he likes to keep and bring up in conversations that would back his arguments the best.

“You unsettle me,” Logan sighs.

Janus hums. “Apparently, that’s the effect I’m known to give. And you wonder why I tend to stay away.”

“Because you don’t like unsettling people?”

“Oh, believe me, honey. I do. If I can’t change it, might as well enjoy it.”

They turn a corner and narrowly dodge a band club member carrying a big tuba.

“Are you aware of the current tension and divide within the group?” Logan asks, adjusting his glasses.

Janus rolls his shoulder. “What’s new?”

“It seems to be caused by you. Aren’t you bothered?”

“Sweetheart, if you were in my shoes, what would you think?”

“Your shoe size is smaller than mine. Why don’t you speak with them about it?” 

Janus slows to a stop and squints his eyes with confusion. “Speak to them about...my shoe size?”

Logan pinches the bridge of his nose. “No. I mean, give them clarity and peace of mind so all of this will finally end.”

“Wow, and I thought Patton was pushy.” Janus raises a brow in amusement. “And ‘them’? Seems like you’re subtracting yourself from the equation. You don’t like associating yourself with the rest?”

Logan frowns. “You are changing the subject. And I am a neutral party.”

“Are you? A moment ago, you said I was unsettling.”

“I did. And I find Roman infuriating, Patton overbearing, Virgil exhausting, and Remus disorienting. I am exasperated with you all equally.”

This makes Janus laugh. “Your superiority complex is charming, Logan Evans. But to answer your question so we can both go about our merry way, I don’t talk to them because trust and respect cannot be imposed. It has to be earned. If I have not done anything to merit their trust, then that’s fine by me.”

“But they’re accusing you of something you may or may not have done. Shouldn’t you want to defend yourself?”

“Why?”

Logan is getting testy. “Why not?”

Janus’s teasing grin falls into a straight line as his expression becomes more serious. “It’s none of your business.”

“If we were in court, you’d lose your case.”

“You would _not_ want to be in a courtroom with me.”

Logan clicks his tongue and folds his arms over his chest. He knows that he and Janus could do this all day—two stubborn boys unyielding to each other. He is aware that Janus is relishing the thought of having complete control over the argument, twisting and turning it until Logan has no choice but to give up. But two can play that game. Logan isn’t one to go for “below-the-belt” methods, arguing that it’s just a cheap tactic to get what you want. But he needs to show that he is capable of “fighting fire with fire” as well. (He’s been studying metaphors.)

Logan clears his throat. “I somehow believe that you’re just terrified of telling the truth. That it’ll change how we think of you, so you think it’s much safer to just tell your lies.”

Janus’s face twitches ever so slightly, and Logan doesn’t fail to notice. “Wow, you know me better than anyone else,” he says with sarcasm. 

Logan softens his expression. “Look, I’m just as exasperated about all this as you are. Don’t you want this to end?”

Janus doesn’t say a word. Instead, he casts his eyes downward in pensive thought. And when he opens his mouth, he says, “Your zipper is down.”

Logan looks down at his pants in alarm and sees that it’s actually zipped up. But when he lifts his head again, Janus had already turned on his heel to enter his classroom, leaving Logan staring at his empty spot out in the hallway.

During lunchtime, Logan expected another round of cold shoulders and microaggressions. Surprisingly, he is met with peace. Roman and Remus seem to be in good spirits and are livening up the lunch table with their sibling antics which perfectly conceals the air of agitation surrounding Virgil and, curiously, the gloom that hangs on Patton’s head despite his bright smile. If Logan felt any remorse, he would have decided against shattering this moment of reprieve. 

But he does not.

“We must speak about Janus,” he says blankly.

The entire table hushes, looking at him with wide eyes.

“You’re all pretending not to think about it,” he adds. “But I know you all are.”

“Are we going to talk about how you all hate him?” Roman comments bitterly. “Because I am having none of that.”

“We must share our honest thoughts about him because the longer we hide it, the more we are hurting each other.”

“He’s hiding things from us,” Virgil whispers. “I don’t want a friend who I can’t trust.”

“Hypocrite,” Roman tells him snidely. “You hide things too. We all do!”

“At least I don’t manipulate the people I care about.”

“Calm down, Doctor Gloom,” Remus warns. “Ro, what Virgil means to say is that Janus may not...be completely honest about who he is around you.

Roman looks at him with hurt in his eyes. “Oh my god,” he mumbles. “That’s why you don’t want me to date him! After all I said to you this weekend...”

Remus groans. “Ro, don’t make this about you.”

“Agreed,” Logan nods. “So Virgil and Remus have found evidence regarding Janus’s mysterious doings that we are unaware of.”

Roman’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Roman and Patton, what are your thoughts?”

“Hold on, what in heaven’s name did you find?”

Virgil and Remus share a look. “He confessed that he was there at the diner,” Virgil says. “You probably read about it in the news yesterday.”

Logan raises his brows. “The news about the pedophile who was caught because he went to the hospital for a stab wound?”

The two nod grimly.

“So, he helped a criminal get caught. Isn’t that supposed to be great? And he didn’t do it himself, right? He’s not evil!” Roman huffs.

“It wasn’t good,” Patton speaks up, “but that doesn’t make him an evil person. Roman’s right and I’ve thought it through. Janus and I are not buddies, but I looked back on all the things he’s done in the past. Yes, they’re questionable and I don’t like that he does them for fun, but he has never done anything that would harm anyone with malicious intent.”

“Yeah!”

“I myself have spoken to Janus,” Logan adds. “I believe he isn’t as dangerous as you both make it sound as well. Did you perhaps consider that he has a proper explanation for it that he may not be comfortable sharing now because of the way you’ve been acting?”

Virgil scowls, averting his gaze. “Of course, when it comes down to it, you all take Princey’s side.”

“I’m not taking his side. Did I say I was taking his side?” Logan retorts. “I am providing a space for all of you to air out your grievances.”

“What for?”

“Because Janus is very much part of this group too, whether you like it or not!” presses Patton. “You need to accept that, Virgil!”

“Now Patton, Virgil doesn’t need to do anything,” Logan tells him. “His feelings are just as valid as yours and Roman’s.”

Roman sighs with exasperation. “Holy Hera, what’s the ding-dang point of all of this?”

“For you all to decide as a group what to do to fix this issue!” Logan hits the table with his fist with minimal force. “You’re all individually confronting him thinking you can fix it yourselves. If we all come together and give him a safe space to be honest, without fear of judgement or vilification, then it will be much easier and clearer where to go from there.”

“This is stupid!” Roman answers. “Janus trusts me. And he knows I trust him. If he had anything to hide, he wouldn’t hide it from me.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble Princey, but we heard it ourselves,” remarks Virgil. “He’s blatantly lying to your face ‘cause he knows you’ll believe him.”

Remus, his voice trembling, decides to speak up. “And the only reason why he started being nice to you all those years ago was because Patton told him to keep kissing your ass with flattery.”

Roman looks at Patton in disbelief. “You what?”

Patton, his eyes wide as saucers, starts to stammer. “How did you... That-that was long ago! I know it was wrong and I regret it! I’m sure he’s genuine with his words now—”

“How are you so sure?” Remus insists.

Roman shakes his head, his eyes screwed shut. “I can’t believe you all. You’re painting him as a villain! He _trusts_ me. I’ve been the only person who’s been nice to him. If you don’t want to be his friend, then fine! He doesn’t need any of you! And I don’t need any of you either.”

Logan holds out his hand. “Roman, they’re not asking you to join their side. We just need your cooperation. And you two,” he points at Virgil and Remus, “should cease these hostilities and stay open-minded.”

Patton winces. “I don’t like this.”

“Well it isn’t about what you like or don’t like either,” Logan spits.

There is a silence that follows, each deep in thought yet bracing themselves for whoever will fire next. No one seems to be willing to for a while until Roman speaks up.

“Please,” he says quietly, “can this wait until after the play? If you’re taking the one person I love away from me, don’t take this one from me too.”

Remus stiffens and Patton’s face breaks.

“Roman, no one’s trying to—”

Patton doesn’t get to finish his sentence as a figure approaches them, his eyes glued to the screen of his phone and his voice loud and disgruntled.

“Elliott’s having an emotional breakdown and I’m _not_ dealing with that,” Janus says, taking a seat next to Roman who gapes at him, face visibly red.

“Uh,” he mumbles, “Are they okay?”

Janus lowers his phone and quirks a brow at Roman. “They’re _having_ an emotional breakdown.”

“Right! Right.”

“Ugh, amateurs, all of them.” Janus dramatically sighs, leaning his weight on Roman who stiffens in panic. “Thank heavens we have our saving grace, the handsome and talented Roman, to save our show...man. Nailed it.”

Roman starts to wheeze and Remus slaps his forehead in exasperation while Virgil rolls his eyes at Janus’s theatrics.

Patton notices Janus squint his eyes at Roman’s lack of response and immediately catches his attention to stop him from realizing the tremendous tension at the table that had sparked following his sudden appearance. “That pin looks great, Jan!” Patton says, clearing his throat.

Janus, Remus, and Roman turn to look at him at the same time, wearing different expressions—Janus startled, Remus uneasy, and Roman very much embarrassed.

“You noticed?” Janus asks, touching the pin on his collar. “It was Roman’s birthday gift.”

“Great Odin’s eyepatch!” Roman croaks, standing up quickly. “I was supposed to meet Mr. Martin 30 minutes ago! Farewell!”

He dashes away and Patton rises from his seat, laughing awkwardly. “I can help you check in on Elliott if you want,” he tells Janus.

“Don’t concern yourself with that, it’ll be fine,” Janus answers as he stands. He flashes a cold look at the three still seated and leaves with Patton trailing behind him.

“I don’t think that went according to plan, Lo,” Remus tells him, massaging his eyebrows in mild annoyance.

“I assure you, it did,” Logan insists. “The end result will speak for itself.”

Virgil wrings his hands together and gulps. “Look, I need you two to help me one last time

Remus scowls. “Geez, Virge. I’m out. If you failed to pick it up, Roman’s finally realized he’s in love with the bitch. This will destroy him.”

“You can’t back out. You’re the most important part of my plan.” Virgil looks at Logan. “And I need your input to make this fool-proof.”

Logan clears his throat. “Virgil, this unhealthy fixation with Janus needs to stop.”

“Before you say anything more, I _assure_ you both that I’ve thought this through long and hard over the weekend too.” He sighs. “This is going to be my last-ditch effort. If I don’t find anything, I promise I’ll let this go.” He flashes his pleading eyes at Remus. “Just give me this. One last time.”

Logan glances worryingly at Remus, who is biting the bottom of his lip in unease. He knows, no matter what he says, Remus is going to give in anyway. So, he sighs and gestures towards Virgil. “Well, let’s hear it then.”

Virgil scoots closer to them and drops his voice low. “I need to check his file at the counselor’s office.”

“Counselor’s office?” Remus repeats. “I never knew he went there. How did _you_ know?”

“‘Cause I’ve _been_ there, stupid. We’ve caught each other there a few times. Mr. Nico Flores is great and he’s an expert at getting through to you. So, whatever truth Janus is hiding from us, there’s a high chance it’s on that file.”

“No,” Logan taps his palm against the table. “You are crossing a metaphorical line.”

“How else are we gonna find out the truth, L?! He’s never going to tell us!”

“He’s never going to consider to because of what we’ve all been doing!” Logan grunts. “You are being para—”

Virgil’s breath hitches and Logan clamps his mouth shut. Logan sighs steadily before he corrects himself: “—expressing an unhealthy amount of concern. Virgil, this is an extreme invasion of privacy. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Virgil gulps but gives Logan a nod full of conviction. “Yes.”

Logan sighs at that. “So you will require our assistance to sneak you in, is this correct?”

“Oh, I get it!” Remus smiles mischievously. “I’m the distraction!”

“And you better not fuck it up,” Virgil warns. “We’ll do it after class. Dukey, make sure Mr. Nico stays away from his office.”

“Any hints on how precisely I’m gonna do that without the obvious answers of arson, pulling down the handle of the fire alarm, or egging his car?”

Logan sniffs. “His eyesight is horrible. Maybe you could steal his glasses.”

This makes Remus gasp. “Logie, you’re evil.”

“I said steal, not break. You can set it down somewhere near him once you’ve bought Virgil enough time.” Logan then turns to Virgil. “You know where the files are placed?”

“I’ll be in and out as fast as lightning,” Virgil nods. “Thank you.”

Remus ruffles Virgil’s hair, snickering. “Ah, how can we say no to you. But this is the last time I’m helping your ass out, alright?”

“Let it be known that I am opposed to this, but since you’ve both already gone this far anyway, there’s no point in arguing,” Logan says, massaging his temples. “How do we begin?”

At 4 PM, Remus emerges from the counselor’s office with Mr. Nico in tow, frantically explaining how he saw a kid hurl a baseball from across the faculty parking lot that crashed through Mr. Nico’s windshield and, if he had only been fast enough, he could have grabbed hold of the kid to take him straight to his office and, out of the goodness of his heart, he reported it right away.

Virgil and Logan, who are hiding behind the corner, wait for the two to be out of earshot before they both briskly head through the door.

Inside, Virgil crouches in front of the locked door of Mr. Nico’s main room and takes out a lock pick from inside his pocket. Logan quirks an inquisitive brow as he watches Virgil fiddle with it.

“What is your end goal with this, Virgil?” he asks after a while.

Virgil doesn’t respond, deeply focused on his task.

“Are you really going to ruin someone’s life for the sake of your moral conscience? Is that fair for Janus? Is that fair to the others?”

The lock opens and Virgil swiftly swings it open. He closes it with a soft thud, leaving Logan keeping watch outside as he heads straight to the cabinets. Pulling one drawer open at a time, he fingers through labeled folders until he finds one marked “Dean, J.” 

Taking it out with trembling fingers, he flips it open. His eyes scan through the first document. Then the second. Then the third. “What?” he breathes, reading the paragraphs over and over again as though the words would morph into something entirely new when he isn’t looking.

A single rap on the door breaks him out of his panicked reverie and he quickly takes photos of all the papers before stuffing the folder back into place. Quickly, he exits the room, locking the door again and grabbing Logan’s wrist to hurriedly leave the office.

“Ouch,” Logan winces. “Virgil, your grip—”

His cry falls on deaf ears as Virgil keeps his eyes dead set ahead of him, allowing his feet to take their bodies to the West Courtyard of the campus. They make a beeline for the concrete bench underneath a row of trees and Virgil releases Logan from his tight grasp, taking a seat and clutching his chest that aches from his shallow breathing.

Logan looks around and spots Remus jogging towards them with a triumphant grin.

“Well, it was a pain in the butt and I’m pretty sure I’ve got no escape from an appointment next Tuesday with Mr. Nico, but we did it!” he gasps as soon as he nears them. He shoots a look at Virgil and says, “Well? Spill the tea, baby V.”

Virgil licks his lips. “I’m… He’s…”

Logan and Remus watch him expectantly.

With a gulp, Virgil hands them his phone.

The two huddle close and read what’s written on the pages Virgil took photos of, feeling their heart sink with every word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Janus's backstory is up next!


	30. When The Chips Are Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Janus comes home one evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW // mention of suicide (non-graphic)

_Who are you in the darkest hours of the night_

_When you know I’m not looking and_

_Do I really wanna know?_

_Where does your sorrow go_

_When you find yourself completely alone?_

—“Early/Late,” BP Valenzuela

Janus was an open book. Everyone knew his story—the kid who arrived in seventh grade with a weird face, no mother, and the sharpest tongue any teacher has ever encountered.

Janus was an open book, and that’s precisely how he was able to conceal his life so well.

He spun tales of lies and never got lost in them, masterfully weaving them around the heads of peers and strangers to protect the one story he can never bear to reveal: the truth.

When Roman drops him off at the white two-story house where he always does, Janus watches him drive away and disappear into the corner before he treks a few more houses down the street to his real home—a humble brown bungalow with a creaky black gate and yellow tulips sparsely planted around the yard.

He opens the door and feels the heavy weight of reality bear down on his shoulders when he sees papers and pillows scattered all over the floor. With a sigh, he checks the tiny kitchen and spots an empty Tupperware container inside the sink. He then makes his way to a door leading into a bedroom and swings it open carefully.

A figure on the bed stirs.

“Dad,” Janus calls.

No response.

Janus walks over to the bed and pulls down the blanket to reveal his father’s red face and clouded eyes.

“Good morning, son,” he greets with a smile.

“It’s 9 PM.”

“Oh.”

Janus brushes the crumbs and tissues off the sheets. “I assume you ate dinner?”

“Mmm… sandwich.”

“And you worked today?”

No response.

“Dad. Did you work today?

“…Yes.”

Janus lets out a breath. “Good.” He looks at the bedside table and spots two empty bottles of wine. “ _Wonderful_. You just finished your stock for the next two months. I’m not buying you a new one.”

“Janus,” his father whines drunkenly.

“I’m getting water.”

Janus fetches a pitcher of water and a clean glass, noting the nearly empty fridge. He returns to his father’s bedroom and helps him hydrate.

“How was school today?” his father slurs after a while. “Why are you home so late?”

Janus shrugs. “Theater rehearsal. Roman dropped me off.”

“I used to always go home late too...” he trails off. “Are you being a good boy?

“No. I thrive in raising hell every single day.”

His father sluggishly places his hand on Janus’s head to caress his hair. “You always were a joker,” he says. “You know, I met your mom at your age.”

“I know.”

“It was love at first sight.”

“I know.”

“Son,” his father slurs as he sits up, “when you feel that way about a girl—oh.” He shakes his head slowly. “I mean: when you feel that way about a boy, you’ll know he’s the one.”

Janus manages a small smile. “Kind of too young to be setting myself up for lifelong disappointment in the romance department, don’t you think?”

“She was the one…” His father places his palm on Janus’s cheek. Janus stares at his glazed eyes.

“You look just like her,” his father laughs. To Janus, it sounds like choking.

Janus remembers the day he came to understand that his father was sinking deeper into the depths of an unforgiving ocean with complete surrender. When they moved into this house years ago, his father toiled away day and night at his computer until, one evening, he just stopped altogether. It was an abrupt shift from overwhelming the self with distraction to wallowing in the pain of losing the love of his life, not even stopping to realize that he left his son helpless above the water.

Janus tried to pull him up but the thrashing of the waves was too much to fight against until everything stilled around him. It was then when Janus found out that he was sinking too.

Janus sighs and looks down at the empty glass in his hand. “Dad, when are you going to move on from her?”

His father’s head rolls to the side as he fixes Janus with a glazed look. “Hmm?”

“I wish you stopped trying to destroy yourself because of what she did,” Janus finds himself pleading. “You can drink and wallow in this pit of despair, but she is never coming back.”

He watches his father’s smile disappear. He slowly lies back down and stays there, motionless, until Janus lets out a resigned breath and moves to gather the empty wine bottles.

“ _Neither the angels in Heaven above, nor the demons down under the sea, can ever dissever my soul from the soul of the beautiful Annabel Lee,_ ” he hears his father recite under his breath until he surrenders to the call of deep slumber.

Janus stares at him for a few moments before flicking off the light and closing the door behind him.

He places the glass bottles on the kitchen counter and starts washing the dirty containers on the sink. Afterwards, he tidies up the living room, wipes the surfaces, and inspects the remaining stock of food they have. Probably enough to last them nearly two weeks if he skips lunch—he’s used to that anyway.

He makes his way to his bedroom in the basement and checks the money he’s hidden inside his box of skincare bottles.

With a sigh, he drops himself onto his chair.

Janus is an open book, but it is full of lies.

The house Roman thinks is his is not.

His father is not a traveling businessman but a freelance writer who holes himself up at home drowning in his pharmaceutical haze to numb the pain and disappointment of his life.

His mother is dead—that part is true. But she didn’t get into an accident like Roman’s father did. She had tucked Janus in bed on a Thursday evening and sang him a lullaby that ended with a kiss, and she slipped away from his room like a passing shadow.

It was 1 in the morning when his father found her hanging with a rope around her neck in the basement.

No one knew why, no one could explain why. She left no note, no explanation, no warning sign; just the little trinkets and candles and the clothes she wore that Janus took with him as they left that empty house and into this small bungalow in Sanderville lent to them by his mother’s sister.

Everything he ever knew about his mother seems like a distant dream now. Often, he wonders if she had ever been real. But he displays her belongings in plain view and wears her clothes as if they’re his own just to desperately hold onto that thin thread tethering him to the woman who left him behind. 

Janus and his father now survive with the meager paychecks his father receives and the money Janus gets from doing odd jobs and errands around the city in disguise—doing grocery runs for the elderly and disabled, writing papers for students too dumb to do themselves, threatening people who’ve done wrong, hassling others who have not, and acting as the ever-elusive deliveryman of dangerous goods to even dangerous men.

What Virgil saw on that fateful night was no mistake; it had been a job that Janus needed to accomplish even though he knew what was coming. It didn’t matter to him. In fact, he didn’t even know what happened. He turned away quickly to have plausible deniability, satisfied to have gotten what he came for.

But he was not “evil.” He only did what he had to do.

All for the sake of having a bite to eat, electricity to keep them warm, and an aunt to keep off their backs and stop from kicking their “worthless” asses out.

Janus has lied and deceived people his entire stay in Sanderville with no guilt or remorse. He wanted so much for this lie of a life to come true that he made it true in every story he told to the ones he least wanted to find out.

The only thing he ever did for himself was to try out theater and it quickly became an escape from the person he has no choice but to be. But it was not his enjoyment of acting and singing that made him stay.

It was Roman. 

Nothing about Roman had been a lie to Janus. And that’s what scares him the most.

Roman is perfect. He sings melodies that can make the world sing along. His heart is golden and when he smiles, Janus feels awe for having been bestowed upon such a treasure.

He has a perfect mother who loves him, a dead father who must have loved him just as much, and a brother who loves him too much that he’d wreck himself just to give Roman the spotlight.

And Roman is so perfectly stupid and naive that he’d follow Janus to the ends of the earth without question. Janus feels no guilt nor remorse for lying and deceiving his way through life but, if he ever did, it would be for stringing stupidly perfect, stupidly naive Roman King along for the ride.

He never meant to get this close to him. Roman had made him feel unwanted the very first moment they met and Janus remembers thinking how numb he felt being the object of Roman’s scorn, hoping that maybe Roman would go as far as to drive him over the edge of this horrible existence just so he’d have some sort of reason to—then maybe, he could begin to understand what his mother had felt in those moments of surrender.

Maybe if he hadn’t listened to Patton then. “Roman is really a nice person, he’s just...hurting a whole lot,” Patton told him one day. “I promise that he’ll stop if you just _maaaybe_ keep telling him what he wants to hear? It’ll be much easier for everyone.”

Janus had rolled his eyes at him that time. “I don’t know you, and I don’t need to do anything you tell me.” But he did anyway, as though conducting a social experiment to see how low of a self-esteem a loud-mouthed bother possessed to start reveling at his enemy’s false flattery.

He was not prepared to realize just how great Roman’s insecurity with himself was that Roman would completely shift and latch onto Janus like a lifebuoy. For a while, Janus was annoyed by Roman’s company, his teasing insults, his over-the-top gestures, and his tendency to break out into song. But Roman was kind, funny, adorable, and dazzling that Janus found his own self hooked to his intensity—desperate for it to take away his depressing reality.

But all Roman knows about Janus is a lie.

Janus clutches the snake pin he wears over his heart every single day since Roman gave it to him. It sticks out in his dark room filled with his childhood possessions, thrifted furniture, books, old vinyl records, and boxes upon boxes upon boxes. 

He lets himself believe that he deserves this, deserves this joy and warmth filling his chest, deserves a life in the arms of the one person who felt like home.

Maybe one day, he’ll believe it enough that it becomes real.


	31. Nothing I Can Hold, I Can Have, That I Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Janus spends the night at Roman's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realized I wasn't able to explain things in the previous chapter, so I'm doing it here! I didn't really plan for Janus's backstory to be so tragic, I just wanted it to be sad in a way to sort of make his habitual lying make sense. It was supposed to go down a different route (I don't remember now what it originally was) until I watched "I'm Not Okay With This" on Netflix and got inspired by Syd's own backstory.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this new chapter!
> 
> -
> 
> Title from "A Soft Place to Land" from Waitress the Musical

There is only one day in a year when Janus wakes up with the foreign feeling of emptiness.

How he spends this particular day in October changes every year. In eighth grade, he skipped school to glue pennies on the sidewalk and watch hapless fools try to pick them up. In ninth grade, he spent the whole day cleaning his house (it had been a weekend). In tenth grade, he snuck burritos inside the teacher’s lounge and nuked them on high blast in the microwave, causing the smoke alarms to go off and the lounge smelling like farts for a few days.

It never takes long for Janus to think of what to do to spend his time floating in the waters of this Great Big Empty he feels. Today became an exception.

Today, he surrenders himself to an overwhelming defeat. People he genuinely considered his friends have all decided to want nothing to do with him, his theater play is showing this week and is making everyone around him a jittery mess, and his father continues to slowly slip away from the reality he does not want to be in.

As one could tell, Janus is doing absolutely _fine_.

The only thing weighing him down like an anchor is the pin that Roman gave him on his birthday—still attached on the collar of his sweater, easy for him to reach up to and tenderly caress with his thumb.

The day goes by like a blur and his consciousness ebbs and flows with the passage of time. He only wakes when it’s 4:15 PM and he’s staring at the inside of his locker, feeling a presence beside him.

“Hello, sunlight to my darkest days!” Roman greets brightly. “You’ll never guess what happened to me during Math Class...”

Janus looks at Roman but the words don’t register. He sees Roman’s lips moving and he nods along, though he fails to understand what he’s nodding to.

 _Where am I?_ Janus thinks. _What am I doing? This has to stop._

“Roman.”

“...and then the answer was—huh? Did you say something?”

Janus keeps his voice steady. “I’m staying over tonight.”

“Tonight? It’s a school night.”

“I know. Valerie wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh!” Roman swallows thickly. “I...yes! Sure! I’ll ask her! Why all of a sudden? Are you alright?”

“Peachy keen, sweetheart.” Janus clears his throat. “I...just need to be away from home for the night. Please don’t ask.”

Roman knits his brows in worry. “Okay,” he replies.

“Okay?” Roman nods and Janus sighs. “Okay. Come on. Rehearsals.”

The drive home is quiet. Songs from _Hadestown_ play from Roman’s Spotify by Janus’s request but Janus has kept mum the entire time. Every now and then, Roman glances at Janus, who is gazing absentmindedly outside his window, and sighs wistfully before knocking himself off his trance.

_Focus, Roman! Don’t make it obvious!_

Roman clears his throat. “If there ever was a gay production of ‘Hadestown,’ you should play Eurydice.”

Janus takes a few seconds to reply. “Because I’d be the type of person to sell his soul to those in power so I wouldn’t die from hunger?”

“What?” Roman laughs nervously. “No, I meant that you’d sing her parts wonderfully.”

Janus hums. “Only if you played Orpheus.”

Roman feels his chest flutter. “W-well, if you think of me that way—”

“He’s reckless, naive, and unnecessarily over-the-top with his valiant gestures of love. It suits you.”

In an instant, his shoulders slump. “Ouch.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” he hears Janus murmur under his breath.

“I can’t even reach his register.”

“So?” Janus quirks a brow. “It’s your version, isn’t it?”

Roman laughs. “In my version, they live happily ever after.”

The corner of Janus’s mouth curves upward. “Of course they would,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing one could know about Roman.

Roman parks his car in his driveway and they head straight to the kitchen where covered plates of food would be waiting for them with sticky notes that read “RoRo <3” and “Janus :)” from Valerie.

“I’ll heat them up in the microwave,” Roman says, lifting the plates up with both hands.

Janus sits at the table and continues playing the song they had been listening to in the car.

“— _ever known is how to hold my own_

_All I've ever known is how to hold my own_

_But now I wanna hold you, too_

_You take me in your arms_

_And suddenly there's sunlight all around me—”_

Roman gazes longingly at Janus, his heart leaping right out of his chest remembering the warm embrace they shared under the moonlight.

The microwave beeps loudly and Roman yelps before moving to take out the first plate, flustered and cursing under his breath. When he turns back around, Janus is watching him with a curious expression.

“So, uh,” Roman stammers. “Where did you tell your dad you were at?”

“In Alaska.”

“So he doesn’t know yet.”

“Don’t worry your beautiful head over it, doll.”

Roman flushes and he turns so his back is facing Janus now, and he awaits the second beep of the microwave to take out the second reheated plate. He then brings both meals—meat enchiladas for Roman and a vegetarian version for Janus—to the table and sits across Janus, sneaking glances between bites.

The song dissolves into the next and the first notes of “Flowers” play before Janus quickly hits pause. A hush falls over them both.

“I didn’t bring any clothes,” Janus realizes after a few seconds.

“Ooh, are you prepared to look like me for a day?” Roman says excitedly, though inwardly panicking to pick out his best-looking clothes and hoping the outfit he came up with in his head passes Janus’s standards.

“Oh my,” Janus says, “now people will really think we sleep together.”

Roman’s inner panic escalates. “L-let them think what they think!”

The sudden change of pitch in his voice intrigues Janus who tilts his head to the side. “Right. Anyway...”

They finish dinner quickly and Roman lets Janus help with the dishes as he sprints upstairs to gather extra pillows and a clean pair of his pajamas to take down to the basement guest room.

Janus descends the flight of stairs just as Roman emerges through the door.

“You could use my stuff to freshen up,” Roman tells him. “I’ll go grab ‘em quick.”

When he returns, Janus is seated on the couch wearing his oversized gray sweater and unicorn pajama pants.

“Cute huh?” Roman asks, poking at one of the smiling unicorn heads. Janus smirks, “Very. Not tacky at all.”

“I hate you.”

Roman settles down next to Janus. “Want to watch something? Netflix, Disney+, or YouTube?”

“I’m sure I’ll enjoy whatever entertainment you provide tonight,” Janus replies, folding his hands over his legs. “Surprise me.”

“YouTube it is then.”

For an hour or so, Roman plays a number of videos ranging from old vine compilations to New York travelogues, trying desperately not to imagine all the cheesy RomCom scenes that this scenario, where both of them are sitting side-by-side alone, could lead to. After some time, he purposely scoots close and rests his head on Janus’s shoulder, testing Janus’s reaction. He feels his heart flutter when Janus slides a bit further down to help Roman get a more comfortable position.

 _Dear Zeus!!!_ He shrieks in his head.

Roman steals a shy glance once again at Janus and frowns when he finds him staring off into the distance. He reaches for the remote and hits pause.

“Are you tired? We could call it a night,” he asks Janus who promptly snaps out of his reverie.

“Sorry, I was plotting world domination.”

Roman smiles at him with uncertainty. “You know, you don’t have to do that here. Your...” he makes vague gestures with his hand. “...act. It’s just me.”

Janus purses his lips and says nothing.

“Also,” Roman breathes in slowly. “I’m really sorry about them. I should have...tried harder to stop Virgil and Remus from harassing you these past weeks. You didn’t deserve that treatment.”

“It’s not your fault,” Janus shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter to me.”

Roman isn’t convinced. “It’s not bad to admit that you’re hurt, you know. They were a bunch of assholes.”

“You shouldn’t stay mad at them,” Janus tells him, ignoring what Roman just said. “You need them more than I do.”

“But it isn’t fair what they did.”

“When is life ever fair, darling?” Janus chuckles. “Really, don’t worry about me. I’m getting by fine.”

Roman’s heart aches a little hearing Janus say that, knowing what the unspoken truth really is. “So, what’s bothering you? Why did you not want to be home tonight?”

“I told you not to ask, Roman.”

“Don’t I deserve to know? I’m your best friend. I don’t want you to keep secrets from me.” Roman purses his lips. “I don’t think I ever kept things from you.”

Janus sighs. “It’s silly. Pre-show jitters. Friends who suddenly turned on you. Who would want to be stuck alone in a quiet house at a time like this?”

Roman frowns. “Oh.” He tries to reach out to hold Janus’s hand but stops himself, placing his hand on Janus’s shoulder instead.

“You’ll always have me,” he whispers.

Janus stares at him and lets his lips curve into a small, genuine smile—the kind that takes Roman’s breath away.

_Don’tkisshimdon’tkisshimdon’tkisshim—_

“Dumb and naive as always, Prince Charming,” Janus remarks, shaking his head.

Roman sticks his tongue out. “Unfortunately for you, you’re stuck with me for life.”

“How sure are you about that?”

“Shush, you non-believer!” He waves his hand in the air. “But really, you know you can trust me. Whatever it is that’s going on, I’ll empathize with you. I can help you. I _want_ to help you.”

Janus gives a breathy laugh. “My Prince come to save me from my humdrum life?”

Roman sees this as an opportunity. “What, may I ask, am I saving you from?”

Janus doesn’t give him the satisfaction. “Spooky spirits. Monsters in my closet. A dead body in my basement.” _Freudian slip_ , Janus says in his head.

Roman stares at him, saying nothing. He lazily plays with a stray strand on the side of Janus’s face, tucking it behind his ear. “You’re so full of secrets, Jan. Three years, and I’m still figuring you out.”

“I’m irritating like that.”

“If I hear one more self-deprecating comment from you, I swear to all things holy that I will smite thee.”

“Oh, smite me all you want, darling,” Janus purrs.

Roman jerks his hand, his face growing a vibrant pink. “Don’t flirt with me when we’re having a sincere conversation!” he huffs.

“You set it up so easily for me, honey,” Janus snickers. “How could I not?”

Roman wrestles with what to say. Should he just get it out of his chest right now? No, he can’t risk getting heartbroken before the play! Besides, this isn’t supposed to be the point of this heart-to-heart; he’s supposed to give Janus a chance to talk to him and make him understand what’s going on.

“Listen...I don’t care about what you’ve done or are doing when we aren’t looking. It’s your life and I will respect it. No matter what anyone says, I’ll always be on your side.”

Roman watches the impressive facade that Janus so expertly puts up crack a tiny bit, his expression softening only slightly. “I assure you, Roman,” he says genuinely, “that you’ll be the first one to know.”

Janus moves to stand. “Well, it’s getting late, and I don’t want you to ruin your beauty sleep with the play just days away.”

“Right.” Roman rubs his eyes and accompanies Janus to his bedroom. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I’ll take care to email my long list of demands,” Janus answers. “Good night, Roman.”

“Good night.”

But Roman doesn’t leave. He stares at Janus through the doorframe with bated breath and feels electricity down his spine as Janus stares back. He thinks about how easy it is to cross the room, to lock the door behind him and softly push Janus down on the mattress and let their bodies meld together, forgetting the worldly burdens that weigh heavy on their backs. Easy, if only Roman wasn’t a romantic and a coward.

Roman mistakenly shifts his eyes at the bed for a split second and he sees Janus’s lips part to suck in his breath quietly. With warmth creeping up at the back of his neck, Roman repeats, “Good night,” and closes the door with one swift motion.

He sprints up the stairs to his room, smiling so wide that his cheeks start to ache, and he swoons until he falls to his bed, clutching his chest.

 _Apollo Almighty_ , he screams in his head, _if this is a dream, I don’t ever want to wake up!_

_Dear God,_ Janus says in his head, _let this dream end._

He stares at the ceiling, darkness shrouding him, as he listens to the ticking of the clock hanging at the far side of the wall.

There is only one day in a year when Janus wakes up with the foreign feeling of emptiness. It’s the reason why he hates celebrating his birthday. It’s the reason why he’s currently in Roman’s house instead of his own home where the ghosts of his past continue to haunt him—scratching and clawing at his ribcage as his heart aches and yearns and breaks over and over again.

Why did he think that escaping his house would free him from the clutches of those dark shadows? They’re still with him—here, now, in the silence of a room in a house that isn’t his, in a house so full of love and joy.

He checks the time. 1:17 AM. An immense heaviness falls on his chest and he abruptly sits, throwing the blanket off his body, and jumping to his feet to walk out the door.

His footsteps are silent but quick, and he makes his way up the stairs to the second floor to head straight to the room located at the end of the hallway. Once there, he twists the doorknob and slowly pushes the door open, slipping inside before closing it behind him.

He could make out Roman’s body in the void sleeping soundly on his bed, his limbs outstretched and dangling over the edge as he snores.

Janus walks towards him and leans close. He’s watched Roman sleep before—during sleepovers as they lie side-by-side on his mattress, or when Janus wakes early in the morning—but it’s always such a sight to behold. As though watching him at peace would grant him inner peace too.

Janus tugs Roman’s hair lightly and watches as Roman groans and flutters his eyes open.

“Wha…?” Roman blearily squints at Janus through the darkness. “Jan?”

Janus sighs and takes a seat at the edge of the bed. Roman fumbles with the switch of his lamp and rubs the dust from his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t talk,” Janus says. “Just let me sit here for a few minutes.”

Roman blinks in confusion but obliges. Janus keeps his eyes locked on the leg of Roman’s bedside table, letting the ticks of the clock and the inhale and exhale of each other’s breath lull his senses for as long as he needed them to.

Roman watches him patiently, taking in all the details of Janus’s face that he could have sworn he’s never seen before—tired eyes, trembling lips, and tear stains on his cheeks—cracks of Janus’s cool facade crumbling away to reveal the skin of a regular teenaged boy that Janus often forgets he is.

Roman reaches out and brushes the back of his hand against Janus’s fingertips, shaking Janus awake from his daze. Janus glances down to see Roman’s open palm, and he carefully laces their fingers together.

Janus waits for Roman’s next move, clearly too vulnerable and tired to resist walking straight into this dangerous territory of intimacy with the one person he cared about the most.

They’ve been into this territory before. But never willingly. Never sober. Never at a time when everything seems to be falling apart around them.

Janus thinks that, for the first time, he doesn’t have the energy to care.

But Roman does nothing. Instead, he says quietly, “I won’t do or say anything you wouldn’t want me to.”

Janus smiles in spite of himself. “I know. I’m that kind of idiot who trusts _you_ of all people.”

“Ouch.”

Roman pulls his hand back to scoot sideward on his bed, making space for Janus to lie down. “Just sleep here. I’m sure mom won’t find out.”

“Me, share a bed with you? How scandalous,” Janus teases. He notes the blush that appears on Roman’s cheeks.

“Fine,” he huffs, “go back to the basement where slimy villains like you belong!”

Janus chuckles in response. He lies down and pulls Roman’s red covers over himself before rolling to his side to face Roman who tenses in surprise.

“I know,” Janus mutters in jest. “My face is horrible up close.”

“If only you knew,” Roman breathes, “how stunning you are.”

It’s Janus’s turn to blush deep red and he quickly rolls to his other side to hide his panicked expression. On second thought, he thinks, he isn’t ready to tread this dangerous road.

He barely controls his whimper when he feels Roman’s body get close to his and he prays for the strength not to run out of the room.

“Janus?”

Janus forces his voice not to crack. “Hm?”

“If you were a Heather, who would you be?”

Janus blinks. He rolls back to his other side to stare at Roman. “What?”

“If you were a Heather, who would you be?”

“I will never be a Heather. I’m obviously a JD.”

Roman pouts. “That wasn’t the question but fine.” He hums. “Okay, if you could be the heroic protagonist, and not a villain, of any musical, who would it be?”

“What are you doing?”

“Asking questions? Thought it was obvious, Brad Pitt-iful.”

Janus rolls his eyes. “Okay. Willy Wonka.”

“Hardly counts as ‘heroic’ but I’ll accept it.” Roman beams. “You’d make a great Willy Wonka.”

“You know it, doll.”

Roman yawns and closes his eyes. “Hmm... what else to ask?”

Janus tuts. “Maybe _not_ ask and just go back to sleep.”

“Fine,” Roman murmurs. “How about a favor?”

“That will depend.”

“Sing me a song.”

Janus knits his brows together and feels a bemused grin grow on his face, in spite of himself. “Alright. I hope you like ‘Haben Sie gehört das Deutsche band’.”

Roman chuckles and waits.

Janus rolls on his back and takes in a deep breath to lull Roman asleep with his chosen song.

_“Sometimes I still see her_

_My mother the dreamer_

_She'd say, "Nothing's impossible child"_

_A dream needs believing_

_To taste like the real thing_

_Like some stranger you recognize...”_

His voice echoes through the quiet room, accompanied by the evening autumn wind gently blowing outside Roman’s window and by the moonbeams that cast slivers of light upon their bodies.

He sings the song for Roman, and he sings it for himself, and he sings it for the ghost of his mother who, at that precise moment, he lifts up a prayer for in remembrance of her fifth year of death.

Janus awakes the next morning with Roman’s arm draped over his waist. He carefully peels himself off to sit on the edge of the bed, sighing as he glances at the time on the clock.

He nudges Roman awake. “Hey,” he whispers. “I’m heading down. You should get ready soon.”

Roman groans and rolls over onto his other side in response.

Janus walks over to the door and quietly slips out, but as he turns to walk down the hallway, he sees Remus with a toothbrush in hand and staring at him with a blank expression.

They stay rooted in place, eyes locked, for a few moments.

“For the record,” Janus starts, “we didn’t do anything.”

Remus presses his lips together. “It’s not any of my business.”

Janus can’t help the bitterness seep through his voice. “You’re right. It isn’t.”

Remus sags his shoulders. “Just...don’t hurt him. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Because you’re all doing such a _great_ job at that, right? Bravo.”

“Oh, come on,” Remus says sheepishly. “You know how Virgil can be. He made very convincing points. But—”

“Virgil is an anxious little rat who sticks his nose where he shouldn’t.” Janus starts walking towards the staircase. “Anyway, it’s too early in the morning for this.”

“Sorry,” Remus manages to say as Janus passes him by. Janus stops mid-step. “Don’t tell that to me,” he mutters, just as he hears the muffled noises of Roman walking around his room. “I don’t need to hear it. Tell that to _him_.”

Roman stares at Janus as he steps out of the guest room in Roman’s clothing: a black floral top and skinny jeans that still somehow looked too big on Janus’s slim body. He watches Janus put on his coat—the double-headed snake pin glistening under the fluorescent light—and his boots.

When he’s all-dressed, Roman laughs. “You look so weird.”

“It’s the _oh-so_ lovely shirt, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, that’s the only dark-colored top I had. It suits you, anyway!”

Janus sighs in resignation and buttons up his coat. “Alright, let’s go.”

Roman nods, pushing himself off the couch. “Are we not going to...talk about last night?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Like...why you came over? And woke me up in the middle of the night? You’ve got to tell me one way or another.”

Janus stares at Roman. “I _don’t_ know what you mean.”

Roman purses his lips and heaves a deep sigh. “Okay then.”

They make their way up to the entrance hallway where Remus is sleepily tapping on his phone with his bag slung over his shoulder. Valerie steps out of the kitchen with three lunch bags and hands them over to each of the boys. “Have a great day today, sweethearts. I made one for you too, Jan.”

“Mrs. King, you are an angel,” Janus tells her. “And yet your sons are burdensome pests.”

“Hey!” the twins shout in unison. They look at each other and turn away quickly, grimacing.

Valerie giggles. “Be good, boys. _Te quiero!_ ”

“ _Te quiero_ , _mama_ ,” Roman and Remus answer as they head out the door.

Remus takes his place at the backseat, leaning back with his arms folded across his chest. Once Janus and Roman settle down in the front seats, an awkward silence settles. Janus decides to clear his throat and remind Roman that they’re running late, and Roman nods, backing out of the driveway to head to Patton’s house.

 _Fantastic_ , Janus thinks as he watches Patton approach with a tired smile.

“Ah,” he says in surprise after seeing Janus as he climbs aboard, “Morning, Janus!”

“Hi,” Janus says with a strained voice.

Patton leans back on his seat and proceeds to stare out the window. Janus and Roman share a look. This is going to be a long ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're confused what the "particular day in October" was, it's the death anniversary of Janus's mom, which takes place days after his birthday.


	32. A Gentle Tethering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some tension dissipates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Analogical and Moceit moment here~

The whistle blows and the Phys Ed coach bellows, “Take five, boys!”

Logan, panting heavily, wipes the sweat off his brow as he jostles over to Virgil making his way towards the benches.

“I’ve never seen you run that hard before,” he quips.

Virgil flashes him an icy glare through his wet bangs before dropping his tired body onto the cold steel bench, catching his breath. 

Logan sits beside him, twisting the cap off his water bottle to take in big gulps. Virgil chews on his bottom lip, stealing glances at Logan before saying, “So, the play’s tonight.”

“Indeed,” he answers. “I believe Patton asked us to congregate at 5 PM dull.”

“Dull?”

“Oh, that’s just what I say when I’m certain that people will not be there at the specified time sharp.”

Virgil snorts.

Logan takes off his glasses and wipes the fog off the lenses. “I’m looking forward to it, to be quite honest. It seems that they worked really hard on it.”

Virgil doesn’t reply and kicks the ground in steady beats.

“How long do you think it is?” Logan muses, putting his glasses back on. “I usually have a scheduled bathroom run at 6:30 to relieve my system of bodily fluids.”

“Did I screw everything up?” Virgil suddenly asks.

Logan peers at Virgil’s hands. “You don’t seem to be holding a screwdriver.”

“No! I mean… In my abject resolve to play detective, did I just make things worse finding out about...what we found out?”

“I don’t imagine how you could. He doesn’t know that we know yet, after all.”

“Everyone hates me now.”

“That’s a falsehood.”

“Everyone’s going to, after they find out the truth. Remus already does.”

“I assure you, he does not.”

“What if he tells them?” Virgil chokes. “I should have known it all along that he’d choose them over me. Roman’s his twin, for god’s sake. He’s going to tell the story wrong, and-and misrepresent me to everybody, paint me as an unsympathetic, judgmental jerk!”

Logan shrugs. “Out of everyone in this group, Remus is the last person to do that. Especially to you. You know this.”

“No. _No_. I _am_ an unsympathetic, judgmental jerk. I _am_ in the wrong.” He grabs Logan’s arm, as his breathing shallows. “Janus told Remus and I the truth and I didn’t believe him. I was hyper fixated on the fact that his motivations were wrong, just because I was scared of him. I pushed him away, got all of you to push him away, and I blatantly invaded his privacy and read the secrets he’s confided in Mr. Nico, possibly compromising their relationship too. And I never really stopped to realize that maybe Janus lied about his whole life because it’s something he isn’t at all proud of—like, I get it, I’m not proud of my life either. And, sure, maybe it’s wrong for him to have lied to our faces if he trusted us enough as friends, but things might’ve gone smoother if I had just calmly asked, like what Patton had been telling me in the very beginning. And even though I had a right to feel angry, I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on him because, you were right, it’s unfair to Janus. And attacking a person for his misguided decisions doesn’t really do anyone good. And now maybe I ruined a good friendship because I couldn’t see past my suspicions and the horrible thing I witnessed that Janus actually told the truth about but I wouldn’t believe.”

“Virgil!”

Virgil stares wildly at Logan, gasping for breath and feeling his fingernails digging into Logan’s sweaty skin.

“Please do me a favor and name five things you can see.”

Virgil shakes his head. “Impending doom.”

Logan grimaces. “Try again.”

He looks around. “Bleachers.”

“Okay, go on.”

“Coach Rico. Trees. Football. Water bottle.”

“Now, four things you can feel.”

“A bad feeling. My lungs suffocating.”

“Fine, two more.”

“Pants.” Virgil’s eyes flicker to his hand. “Your arm.”

Logan slowly feels Virgil’s grip loosen, and he holds back a wince as he sees the marks of Virgil’s nails leave shallow cuts on his skin.

“Three things you can hear,” he continues.

“Coach Rico. The wind. A whistle.”

“Two things that you can smell.”

“Sweat and... Gatorade.”

“And one thing you can taste.”

“A sour taste in my mouth probably left over from chugging that bottle of lukewarm cranberry juice from the cafeteria.”

Logan makes a face and decides to ignore that last comment. “Virgil, your mind has been figuratively traveling through time and space from unpleasant memories to worst-case-scenarios, both of which take place elsewhere. That cognitive commutation can be harmful because there’s often not much that you can do in the here and now to resolve the issue.”

He pats Virgil’s shoulder, his grip solid and warm. “What I just had you do a moment ago was an exercise to _remind_ you that you are here, now, in an open field during PE class. Not somewhere else, dealing with something else. You are safe.” 

Virgil gulps and lets out a slow, shaky breath. “I—yeah. Thank you, Logan. No one ever really...does that for me. You know, ground me when I’m close to spiraling.” He smiles. “You’re really cool, L.”

Logan shrugs, a blush coloring his cheeks. “You’re very welcome, Virgil.”

Virgil clasps his hands together in an effort to calm their trembling. “Things are...messed up. I’m trying to grapple with the fact that this wasn’t so black-and-white after all. Janus is the person he is—two-faced, a liar, but...with tons of pain. It doesn’t excuse his actions, but I’m willing to understand him and help him through this. We aren’t all that different, after all.”

“I’m glad you have finally come to that conclusion.”

A loud whistle blows and Coach Rico bellows at the class to regroup, and Virgil groans as he stands up. “Whatever happens, happens I guess.”

Logan nods. “Let’s just enjoy the show.”

“Are you really not going to talk to me forever?”

Roman glares at Remus who is leaning against the locker with puppy-dog eyes.

“Come on, RoRo,” Remus moans with exasperation. “I’m really sorry, okay? You have permission to punch me in the face, shave off my hair, or pierce my nipples—anything! Just _talk_ to me!”

“What do you want?” Roman grumbles as he slams his locker door closed.

“I’m sick and tired of all this fighting! I just want all of this to fucking end too, you know? I’m _this_ close to chopping all our heads off with a meat cleaver so that we could all finally chill out!”

“Maybe you should.”

“Roman, please.” Remus gets down on both knees in abject surrender. “I hate this, I hate not talking to you, I hate being mad at you, I hate you being mad at me. Just kick me in the groin and call it even.”

“Holy Hera,” Roman mutters. “It isn’t about getting _even_ , Rem. It really hurts what you guys are doing behind our backs. And you do it again and again! How are we ever going to go back to being _okay_?”

Remus buries his face in his hands. “I don’t know. I wish I knew. But, god, I’m so sorry. It was fucked up. I regret everything. I should have sided with you. If we murder Virgil and sell his kidneys for cash, would that make it better?”

“Remus!” Roman gasps. “Tempting, but no!”

“Fine, I’ll figure something out.” Remus grabs hold of Roman’s wrist. “But can we _please please please_ be okay now? I swear, I won’t break your trust again. I can’t take this anymore.”

“We will be after you’ve _all_ apologized to Janus.”

“Believe me bitch, I would gladly steal a traffic cone and stab a leg if he asked.”

“Why those two extremes? You know what, never mind, he _would_ ask you to do that.” Roman rolls his eyes. “Ugh, fine. Only because you look so pathetic right now and I have no time for this. The show is starting soon!”

“So we’re good fam?” Remus’s eyes glisten with hope.

“ _Por dios_ , yes!”

Remus whoops, punching the air, before tackling Roman with a big hug.

“Ugh, _stop_ ,” Roman whines, trying to wiggle out of Remus’s tight embrace.

“Just shut up and let it happen.” After a few seconds, Remus loosens his grip and slaps Roman’s butt. “Break a leg tonight, baby bro!”

Roman pushes himself off of Remus and flips him his middle finger, secretly smiling widely to himself as he walks away.

Just once. Why can’t he be left alone just once?

This is the thought Janus has as he finds Patton waiting for him outside his last period classroom.

Patton smiles shyly, his hands holding a small box tied with a white ribbon. “Do you have time?” he asks.

Janus checks his watch.

“It won’t be long.”

Janus sighs. “Alright.”

They make their way to the courtyard just outside the entrance of the theater, and they take shelter at a small quiet corner out of earshot from passersby.

Patton extends his arms and presents Janus with the box, which Janus eyes with suspicion.

“It’s a late birthday gift,” Patton says. “I thought of waiting ’til today to give it so you don’t think of it as such. You did say countless times how you hate being reminded of your birthday.”

“Oh.” Janus takes the box and opens it. Inside are warm and golden pumpkin spice cookies that fill the air with the fragrant scents of cinnamon and nutmeg.

“Thank you, Patton,” he tells him as he closes the lid.

“It probably doesn’t count but…” Patton clutches the sleeves of the sweater tied around his shoulders. “…it’s also a peace offering. I’m really sorry that you’ve been getting hurt by the others. By me too, unintentionally over the years. I haven’t been a great friend, but I never wanted any of this to happen. I tried everything to make it right. Guess I’m not good at that after all. I hope you could forgive me.”

Janus sighs. “Patton—”

“I know what you’re gonna say: that you don’t need to hear my apology, but I’m saying it anyway. I do care about you and we’re still family. And family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.” He’s fighting back his tears. “That’s never going to change. No matter what!”

They stare at each other, uncertain of what to say next or what the other is thinking. Janus glances down at the box and back to Patton’s watery eyes and says with unease, “Oh my gosh, Patton, don’t start crying right now.”

“I’m wasn’t going to!” Patton rubs his eyes vigorously. “A-anyway, it’s okay if you still hate me. Or us. Just know that I don’t. I never did.”

“Alright.” Janus looks at his watch. “Is this all?”

Patton bites down on his bottom lip and shifts uncomfortably on his feet. “Actually, I wanted to ask you for advice.”

“From me? What a development.”

He laughs weakly and starts tugging on the hem of his shirt. “How are you able to act like you’re fine even if everyone seems to be against you...”

Janus raises a brow in mild surprise. “I don’t act,” he answers. “I just don’t care.”

Patton gives a tight smile. “Why don’t you?”

“Because if I spent most of my time worrying about other people’s opinions, I’d be letting them win over me. And you know I hate losing, doll.”

“It’s gotta affect you somehow.”

Patton watches Janus expectantly, and Janus purses his lips with uncertainty. “Obviously,” he grunts. “But who likes wallowing in their pit of depression and self-loathing?” _Just like dad._ “You just have to pick yourself up and move on.”

Patton swallows thickly. “It’s _that_. I seem to be having a hard time with...that last thing you said.”

Janus tilts his head and waits for Patton to continue.

“I’ve...tried so hard to be the kind of person people need me to be because I believed that making them happy would make me happy too. I try to stop fights from happening and try to fix things on my own so that everyone else isn’t burdened with these problems. I hate seeing you all sad or mad or hurt; if I could just take away your pains, I would, I always would.”

Patton clasps his hands together behind his back. “I mess up and everything just blows over. And now I’ve realized that no one actually needs me.” He chuckles sadly. “I’m disappointed with myself. I...I hate these icky feelings, these voices telling me how worthless I really am. Because I don’t want them to see that. I don’t want them to worry about me, not when they’re going through tougher things.”

A single tear rolls down his eye. “What do I do?”

Janus frowns. This is a strange situation, listening to Patton—the person least closest to him—confide in him with his heart laid bare. Janus doesn’t know what to make of this and, if he is being completely honest, he would actually like to laugh in utter disbelief. But there Patton stands, small and vulnerable, that Janus doesn’t have the heart to hurt him.

“Alright,” he says after a while. “Here are my honest thoughts: you have put such unnecessary pressure upon yourself to be the mature and responsible adult of the group. You believe all problems are solvable, but your selflessness is actually pretty selfish, once you realize that you’ve been basing your self-worth on the success rate of your “fixes” and on being the first person they run to for help.”

Janus lowers his voice as he continues, “I know how much you care about us. It’s nauseating but sweet. But we never asked you to singlehandedly solve our fights for us. We don’t want you to. Not only is it annoying, but it’s also making you suffer greatly. The worst part about that is that when you _do_ suffer, you don’t tell anyone at all. You’re bottling it all up, pretending you’re fine and well, not realizing that this balloon is going to pop one day and at the _best_ possible moment. And they will all be standing there like fish out of water, completely out of their wits with guilt.”

“I don’t want that...” Patton whispers.

“Of course you don’t,” Janus nods empathetically. “You speak as if you’re responsible for the sadness of others. That’s our own issue to overcome. What you _should_ be doing instead is focusing on yourself.”

“But that’s selfish. I always wanna put you all first!”

“Selfish? How can you truly expect to give and give to others when you leave nothing for yourself? What that is, is unhealthy, Patton. When was the last time you actually tried resolving your own inner turmoil?”

Patton wrestles with what to say, but Janus cuts him off.

“Look, it’s not like I’m _concerned_ about you or anything. Just stating facts. You need to look out for yourself too. When you suffer, don’t merely keep it in just because you feel like your thoughts and emotions don’t matter. Admit to yourself that even you need help. Everyone is here for you, just like how you’re always there for us.” Janus purses his lips. “Yes, I’d hate to admit it, but I’m lumping myself with the others on that matter.”

Patton looks at him with uncertainty. Then, slowly, he nods. “I‘ve been trying so hard to be strong.”

Janus sniffs. “Believe me, honey, you were terrible at it.”

Patton giggles, feeling the weight on his chest disappear as he takes Janus’s outstretched hand. “Can I hug you?”

Janus makes a face. “Please don’t.”

“Too late!” Patton envelops Janus quickly into a tight hug, resting his chin on the crook of Janus’s neck. Janus sputters and sighs in surrender, placing his hands on Patton’s waist. 

“If people start speculating that we’re an item, I am going to burn this whole school down,” Janus sneers.

On cue, Patton takes a step back and beams at Janus with genuine affection. “Don’t worry, I won’t steal you away from Roman.”

Janus playfully smirks. “As if you ever could.”

“Can I...” Patton pulls the ends of his sleeves in apprehension. “Can I keep going to you for advice and other stuff I’m scared to talk to the others about from now on?”

“That’s a horrible idea. But I’ll allow it.” Janus rolls his shoulder. “For the record, you shouldn’t be scared to tell them.”

Patton smiles. “Thank you, Janus. You really are a great friend. I’m sorry that my… ‘moral ascendancy’ got in the way of that.”

“Whatever.” Janus looks away, failing to hide the blush that shows on his cheeks.

“You don’t have to act strong too, you know,” Patton continues in a hushed tone. “I don’t want you to explode either.”

“Well, who will I be if I don’t act?”

Patton smiles. “My friend. That won’t ever change.”

Janus stares at him, speechless. He casts his eyes downward. “I thought all of you thought I was evil. I even expected you to be his accomplice rather than Remus, to be honest.”

“He did tell me about...what he saw that night first,” Patton tells him. “But he got upset with me for what I said so he’s pushed me away since. So I’ve just really been grappling with the whole situation by myself.”

Janus quirks a brow. “What did you say?”

Patton looks straight at Janus’s eyes. “I told him that you must’ve had a reason for being there. After having learned what it is, it changed my perspective on things. I realized that questions don’t have simple answers and that nothing is ever truly black and white. ‘Cause no matter how much trouble you like getting us into or how much you wreak havoc or even act mean, I know you’re a good person—not because I want to believe that you are, but because you just are...plain, simple, and real.”

A number of emotions flash on Janus’s face in a show of surprise and unwanted vulnerability. Flustered, he grunts, “You don’t know me that well.”

Patton shrugs. “I’ll accept you anyway.”

Janus presses his lips into a thin line. “Ugh, did you really have to initiate this tender moment right before my performance?”

“Just wanted to give you one less thing to worry about!” Patton giggles. “Anyway, you better go! They’re probably looking for you.”

“Being fashionably late is quite on-brand for me, anyway.” Janus pats Patton’s head and says, “Enjoy the show tonight, sweetheart.”

“Break a leg!” Patton replies with a wide grin. “Hopefully not literally, though!”

“Maybe someone else’s then,” Janus remarks in jest.


	33. Razzle Dazzle 'Em

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they finally watch Sanderville High's theater production.

At 5 PM sharp, Logan arrives at the courtyard, not at all surprised that he is the first to be there. After a few minutes, Virgil comes, his hands shoved deep inside his jacket pockets and his face as sullen as usual. It’s 5:22 PM when Patton, Remus, and Valerie arrive at their meet-up spot holding two verdant bouquets—one filled with red roses which Valerie cradles with her left arm, and another with white and yellow tulips that Patton holds close to his chest.

“Logan and Virgil!” Valerie greets. “I haven’t seen you two dears in a while.”

“Missed you too, Mrs. K,” Virgil says with a soft smile.

“Likewise,” Logan nods timidly.

“Let’s go!” Patton says, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet.

Roman absentmindedly buttons and unbuttons his varsity jacket, staring at his reflection on the mirror.

Someone softly clears his throat beside him and he turns to look at Janus, arms folded across his chest, and leaning against the wall behind him. “Nervous, my Prince?”

“Oh, when am I not?” he answers with full honesty.

Janus briefly glances at the stage. “I took a peek. They’re all there.”

Roman snorts. “Even Logan?”

“I know. Shocker.” Then, Janus adds: “Virgil too.”

Roman heaves out a sigh. “I dunno. I wish I felt my best. I wish things didn’t go to shit before all this. I wish I knew what’s going on. I wish I knew what _you’re_ thinking.”

“What I’m thinking?”

Janus watches Roman flash him a sad smile, still buttoning and unbuttoning his jacket. Janus bites the corner of his bottom lip and casts his eyes downward. “Well, it can’t be helped, can it? We can only focus on so many things at once. Right now, you aren’t Roman King, so stop worrying your gorgeous head over his problems. Besides…”

He takes a step towards Roman, leaning close until their faces are mere inches apart. “We’re actors, doll. The greatest ‘fuck you’ we could ever give is putting on the greatest show ever.” He takes Roman’s left hand and releases it from the buttons of his jacket. “So suck it up, bitch, or I’ll be stealing the limelight from you.”

Roman smirks at him. “Oh, you wish.”

In a few minutes, the play begins.

“Holy shit.”

“You could say that again, Dukey.”

“ _Holy shit._ ”

“Wow! That was…”

“…Quite impressive, if I may interject.”

“ _HOLY SHIT?!”_

Valerie playfully taps Remus’s shoulder to give a reproachful look.

“Sorry, mom,” he mutters. “But that was amazing! What the fuck?”

Virgil snickers at him and nods. The play was, as Logan surprisingly admitted, impressive—though Virgil believes it to be an understatement.

The play was _spectacular_. It was funny and heartwarming until a dark plot twist made it take a sharp turn that left them at the edge of their seats for the entire second half.

Roman didn’t look like he was acting at all; his character was as bubbly and kind as he was in true life, with the only difference being that the character was in love with a girl.

Janus threw them all off completely. It was surreal watching him act as a timid, frail, and weird transfer student, with wide eyes and a small smile. He pulled it off amazingly—a testament to his skill.

The play began with both characters meeting—Roman’s standing up for Janus’s against typical school bullies—and becoming friends after a number of chance encounters around campus and outside, encounters that increasingly grew suspicious not just to the audience but also to Roman.

And when it started to affect his friendships and his chances with the girl he wanted, Roman broke, lashing out at Janus who then brilliantly executed his performance of a clueless yet odd student finally choosing to stand up for himself. And then, a hard punch. And Janus was on the floor with (fake) blood smeared over his mouth with Roman trembling with anger and fear.

Everyone sucked in their breath as Janus’s stunned face slowly morphed into a menacing glower and he uttered, in a kind of way that would send chills down your spine, “You will regret that.” 

(Virgil had to stifle a laugh when he heard someone behind him whisper, “That made me shit my pants, holy fuck.”)

Roman’s character started spiraling into madness since then, haunted by flashes of Janus watching him in the hallway, while walking home, and while in the comfort of his bedroom. The hallucinations worsen until he is forced to lay with a girl just to feel a tethering to reality—and Virgil knows that despite the apparent shock of Principal Warner a few rows away, he is deeply engrossed in the story to actually feel infuriated.

This was Virgil’s favorite part, unironically: when Roman stood from the bed, clearly disturbed and sick to the stomach, Janus suddenly appeared from underneath the sheets, a smirk playing on his lips as he propped his arm on the pillow. “You don’t look too good,” he said.

A screaming match and the final string keeping Roman’s sanity intact is cut, as he brought out a gun and fired two shots at Janus’s chest. The spotlights blared twice and a blood-curdling shriek echoed the theater. But what they all saw after was the girl’s body bloodied and limp on the bed instead.

“How the fuck?” Virgil had heard Remus whisper loudly.

“No!” Patton had cried, burying his face on his hands.

Janus reappeared on the left side of the stage then, as Roman keeled over in hysteria over what he had done.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Roman sobbed, pulling his hair.

“Why put the blame on me,” Janus started, “when I’m not the one who pulled the trigger?”

And here was the pièce de résistance: all of Janus’s appearances, after his first scene, had never been at all real—just a figment of Roman’s head, a result of crazed obsession for a cute and shy boy he met at school and the feeling of attraction he couldn’t accept so he turned it into a bone-chilling torment of the mind. Now, it stares at Roman right in the face, a manifestation of his loneliness and self-hatred, no longer inescapable, no longer unreal.

It was _fucking dope_.

The audience roars with applause at the end as they take their bows, both Janus and Roman receiving the most resounding claps of all.

As the crowd thins out after the curtain call, Roman jostles towards Valerie and Remus still wearing his character’s clothes and a proud smile.

“Mom!” he calls out, waving at her.

“RoRo, baby, you were so good!” Valerie says, hugging him tightly.

“Oh mom, these are beautiful,” Roman tells her as Remus hands him the bouquet of red roses. “Hope the play wasn’t so creepy for you.”

“Of course not,” she giggles. “Janus was just as wonderful. Where is he?”

“Yeah, we got this for him too,” Remus says, gesturing towards the yellow bouquet he is holding. “Pat picked it out.”

Roman looks around. “Where are they?”

“Already left. Didn’t think you and J would be too happy to see them, after all.” Remus whispers that last part. “So, your boyfriend can come out of hiding now.”

“He’s not—! Ugh.” Roman gestures vaguely behind him. “He’s still there,” he says, pointing at Janus talking with Principal Warner at a distance.

“Oof,” Remus winces. “Are you betting suspension? Cancellation of all theater club activities? Month-long detention?”

“All those suggestions are horrible!”

“Let me take a picture of you there, honey!” Valerie points towards the stage. “Come on!”

“Oh my god,” Roman mutters under his breath before being dragged away, leaving Remus sputtering, “Wait, what am I going to do with this?!”

He groans and watches Janus from the far corner talking seriously with the Principal, gingerly cradling the bouquet in his arms. In those few moments alone in a crowded room, Remus thinks about everything he read in that file. He had read it five times from Virgil’s phone that he almost memorized it all, word for word.

“Important Notes on Janus Dean: Has yet to recover from losing mother to suicide at young age. Father, a writer, struggling with depression. Hides private life from peers — sign of refusal to accept trauma? Comes off as very independent and self-sufficient — lack of trustworthy parental figure.”

He remembers the initial confusion, then the denial, and then the slow realization that the document, written in legible font and gray gel pen, bore the complete truth about the friend they never knew at all.

Remus glances at Roman. Does he know? Or is he as unaware as they all had been? What would he say if he found out? How would he feel, knowing he wasn’t trusted with honesty like what he fervently believed? Remus knows this will break Roman’s heart. But, even then, Remus had no strength to blame Janus. After all, Janus, the one person who always seemed like he had his whole life together, happens to be just as fucked up as the rest of them.

One thing’s certain: Remus is tired of this. So when he sees Janus and Principal Warner part ways, he walks up to Janus and shoves the tulips to his chest.

“Here,” he grumbles. “You were fucking fantastic. Everyone wanted to let you know.”

Janus looks down at the flowers. “How sweet. Give them my regards.”

“And, ugh, sorry. Really. If you asked, I’d trap a squirrel in Chad’s locker for the laughs if it means you’ll accept my apology.”

“Nice try. It has to be a prank where _you’ll_ suffer.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll let you tear out two fingernails.”

Janus looks horrified. “That’s repulsive!”

“One fingernail? Oh come on, you tease, I want to know what it’s like!”

“Please don’t, and I will consider your remorse.”

Remus squints and leans close to Janus’s face. “You really don’t hold grudges, huh?”

Janus shrugs. “Unlike you all, I don’t have the care, the time, nor the energy to bother myself with what others are saying or thinking about me—good or bad.”

Remus breaks into a smirk. “Not even Princey?”

Janus scowls but before he could retort, Remus swings his arm around his shoulders. “Relax, loverboy, I don’t give a shit what others say either—except RoRo’s. It’s okay to admit that much.”

“I would much sooner die in a pigsty than admit anything to you.”

“Well duh. If you were gonna admit to _anything_ , he should be the first to know.” Remus shoves Janus towards Roman, who lights up as soon as he sees them approach.

Remus leaves them be to be terrorized by Valerie into taking more photos, and he heaves a sigh. Well, the play is over, he thinks. Whatever happens now...is all up to them.

Patton, Logan, and Virgil stand outside by the entrance of the school, eyes watching the starry night sky.

“Patton,” Virgil croaks.

Patton looks at him.

“I’m sorry. I was... I shouldn’t have...” he takes a deep breath. “I fucked up a lot. It’s totally cool if you’re still mad.”

“I’m not mad, Virgil. Just...” Patton gestures vaguely. “...sad and confused about everything. I don’t know if things are okay or going to be okay.” 

He looks at Logan. “And I don’t want to pretend to be okay anymore. I don’t want to force happiness on myself and to this group. So yeah. Maybe... the sooner we all get to talk—and _really_ talk—the better.”

“Things wouldn’t have snowballed like this if we had done that in the beginning,” Logan says pointedly.

“I know Logan. You’re right.” Sighing, Patton tells him, “We’re sorry we haven’t been listening to you.”

Virgil slumps his shoulders. “Yeah. Sorry L.”

Somehow, Logan feels much lighter. “Well, nothing left for us to do than keep moving forward. Be better friends.”

“Right,” Patton nods.

Virgil starts biting the corner of his thumb, uncertain about Logan’s statement. “You think Janus is gonna want us to waltz back into his good graces after all the shit I’ve said to him?”

“I don’t have the answer to that,” Logan responds. “You just have to try.”

A car comes by and a resounding honk makes Logan and Patton jump. The passenger door window rolls down, and Remy peeks through it, waving hello to the boys.

“Pattybear, I miss you!” Remy coos as Virgil opens the door to climb inside.

“Aww, I’ll come by soon with lots of cookies I’ll bake!” Patton answers with a bright smile.

“Love ya babes! And Logan, I’ve only just met you but I love you too!”

Logan blinks, not knowing what to say to that.

Virgil lazily waves goodbye before rolling the window up as Remy drives away.

“Huh,” Logan says, “so that’s Virgil’s older sibling.”

Patton stretches his arms upward and heaves a sigh. “You’re something else, huh, Logan?”

“What are you pertaining to?”

“You’re the newest and yet you’ve managed to do my job better than me.”

Logan quirks a brow. “Your job?”

“You know, keeping everyone in line.” Patton rolls his shoulders with guilt. “Helping them with their problems.”

Logan hums. “For what it’s worth, it’s not your job. But I appreciate the acknowledgment. I care about you all too, more than I ever expected myself to. I’m only doing what I believe is logical.”

“Right,” Patton says with a small smile. “Thank you.”

They watch small groups of students leave the campus and cars leave the parking lot one by one as a silence briefly falls between them. 

“You shouldn’t be trying to fix everything on your own,” Logan says after a while.

Patton chuckles. “Somehow, hearing that the third time doesn’t make it easier."

“Third time?”

“Janus told me the same thing earlier.” Patton clasps his hands together. “And my dad.”

“The therapist, correct?”

He shrugs. “I’ve had this problem where I'd often hide my less-than-awesome feelings ‘cause I didn’t like showing them. I just smile and crack jokes, thinking that it’s my way of coping. Hoping the sadness would go away if I pretend it didn’t exist.”

Logan crosses his arms over his chest, frowning at the ground. “It doesn’t work that way,” he says softly.

“I know,” Patton replies. “I know that now. Everyone gets sad. Even me. Even my dad. And I know now that I shouldn’t hide my pain. Just because I think my problems aren’t as bad as the others doesn’t mean it’s invalid and that I shouldn’t talk about them.”

He reaches out to clutch Logan’s jacket sleeve, his lips trembling slightly as he continues, “I’m really sad about what’s been happening. I want everything to be okay again. But I can’t force it.”

Logan raises his arm to rub circles on Patton’s back. “We share the same sentiment, Patton. I want everything to be alright too. We just have to go through it together.”

This makes Patton smile. “I like the sound of that.”

“Do you blame your father for having these tendencies to repress and fix others’ problems?” Logan asks him.

Patton shakes his head. “I don’t blame him for anything. I just wanted so badly to be like him.” He laughs dryly, hugging his arms. “He’s my hero.”

Logan presses his lips into a thin line. “You’re not him. You shouldn’t be trying to be like him. You’re you.”

“But who am I, Logan?”

“There’s no short way of answering that, but you have your whole life ahead of you to figure it out. And that’s the beauty of it all.”

Patton lets the words sink in and, stepping forward, he takes in a deep breath to exhale all the burden he’s carried within his heart. He rolls his shoulders, now lighter than before, and flashes a genuine smile at his companion. “Wow, Logan, you were right. Talking really does help. I feel peppy again!” He rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “I’m sorry for not listening to you all this time.”

Logan shakes his head. “Apology accepted. We should get going before it gets much darker.” He pauses. “You’re welcome to have dinner at my house if you’d like.”

Patton’s eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yes. In fact, I’m begging. My parents are starting to worry that my only friend is a chaotic delinquent who keeps trying to eat our eggs raw. You’ll be doing me a huge favor.”

Patton bites back a squeal, bringing his hands over his mouth. “I’d love to!” he says with excitement.

The corner of Logan’s mouth quirks the slightest bit upward and, together with Patton, he begins to lead the way back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chad is a character from one of Thomas's shorts.
> 
> -
> 
> I'm so excited, the fic is ending soon! Just a few more chapters left :) I spent a looot of time trying to think of a plot for the play, and I think I'm content with what I came up with.


	34. First Date/Last Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they dance under the moonlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Dogfight" the Musical

Principal Warner doesn’t give the club detention nor suspension. As a result, Billy, the theater club treasurer, decides to throw an after-party at his house.

So, on Saturday evening, Roman stands in front of the mirror, twisting and turning to check every part of his outfit—a white top, black skinny jeans, and brown ankle boots. He knows that something is missing, so he reaches for two jackets on his bed and holds them both up, cocking his head side to side with indecisiveness.

“It’s been two hours and you’re still staring at yourself, Jesus fuck.”

Roman rolls his eyes and glares at his twin, lounging on Roman’s bed and picking his ear.

“It’s a party!” Roman huffs. “The star of the show needs to look his best!”

“Yeah, sure,” Remus mumbles absentmindedly. “By the way, pretty sure Janus likes the red jacket more.”

Roman immediately looks at the red leather jacket on the bed and tosses the ones he had been holding aside. He grabs the object in question just before Remus starts to cackle uncontrollably.

“Got you bitch,” he says. “You’re not trying to look your best for the party, you’re trying to look cute for Janny Dean!”

Roman feels his face heat up. “Get out of my room!” he squeaks, flustered.

Remus lets out a few more laughs before breathing out a sigh of contentment. “He’ll bite your cute little ass no matter what you wear, trust me.”

Roman says nothing, still staring at his reflection with the jacket on his hands. Remus watches with curiosity as the expression on Roman’s face shifts, as though wrestling with himself on how to say what he wants to say, a blush still coloring his cheeks. Somehow, Remus knows exactly what Roman is thinking at that point, and he gasps.

“Wait, are you seriously gonna tell him tonight?”

Roman cringes. “I’m...considering it.”

“Oh my god,” Remus gushes, rolling on the bed with a wide smile on his face. “My baby bro’s finally getting laid!”

“For Hercules’ Sake, Rem!” Roman throws a hanger at Remus, who narrowly dodges it, and fumbles with the leather jacket he decides to put on. He twists his torso from side to side and grins with satisfaction. “Oh, look at me. How could he possibly say no?”

“He’ll jump on you and ravage you on the spot, guaranteed.”

“Fuck, it’s really happening.” Roman cups his cheeks. “Am I stupid for doing this? What if I mess up? Oh god, what if he doesn’t like me?!”

Remus groans. “Ugh, I change my mind, this is actually disgusting.”

“Rem!”

“I’m kidding! Look, if you start getting scared, remember what I always say: fake it ‘til you make it.”

“You always say that?”

“Nah, you think I’m that bland to say such boring adages?”

“But you said—”

Roman jumps as the doorbell rings downstairs and Remus instantly leaps off of the bed. “I’ll answer it so you can have your cliché walking-down-the-stairs moment or something, like the diva you are.”

Roman flips him off as he looks back again at the mirror. He fixes his hair three times, smoothens out his shirt, and adjusts the buttons on his sleeves. Suddenly, all the confidence he had a moment ago leaves his body. _Is the jacket too much? Will he make fun of my pants? Is a white shirt even a good idea?_

“Roman!”

_Ack! Whatever!_

He sprints out of his bedroom and heads down to the living room where Janus stands by, waiting, wearing a white button-down, gray pants, black oxfords, and a mustard yellow sweater. Roman catches his breath. God, he’s so gay.

“Psst.”

Roman looks to his side and sees Remus leaning against the railing and wiggling his eyebrows. “Go get ‘im, tiger.”

Roman blushes and smacks his hand on Remus’s face to shove him back, scowling at the way his brother cackles. Janus turns towards them and eyes Roman up and down with a curious expression.

To hide his flustered face, Roman twirls on his heel. “You and I,” he says, “are as ravishing as always!”

“Speak for yourself, sweetheart,” Janus laughs.

“I swear, I will smite thee.”

“Don’t have too much fun, you hoes,” Remus yells, winking.

Roman and Janus drive to Billy’s house where they could hear the music blasting from a kilometer away. 

Their arrival is met with hollers and hoots, and Roman feels his hands and arms sting from all the high-fives and aggressive pats. He fails to keep track of how many people have shoved beer cans and shot glasses to his face, all of which he declines (“I’m driving, bitches!”), save for one bottle of Pumpkin Ale (just out of curiosity).

It’s only after someone mentions Janus that Roman realizes that they had just been separated, and he looks around the crowded floor in a nervous panic. 

He spots Janus by the wall engaging in a conversation with Ares, donning an offensively bright orange windbreaker, who makes painfully apparent his advances—leaning a bit too close, a mixed drink in hand, and his tongue licking his bottom lip one too many times—that it makes Roman’s blood boil at the audacity. _How dare you flirt with him knowing full well that I’m here!_ Roman almost yells from across the room, if he hadn’t realized that Janus wasn’t exactly _his_ yet to protect from an ugly, preying prick who thinks he’s even worthy of Janus’s affection.

Sneering at Ares, Roman strides across the floor and, standing in front of them both, clears his throat. The two whip their heads to face him—Ares scowling and Janus looking surprised yet amused. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says, obviously not sorry at all. “AJ challenged us to beer pong and I’m not one to back down, dearest.” Roman catches his own self off-guard with the sudden and embarrassingly desperate use of a term of endearment but doesn’t let his glare waver.

“No, you are not,” Janus smirks, looping his arm around Roman’s, allowing himself to be whisked away from his grimacing companion.

“Having fun, Mr. Popular?” he says, as they make their way to the second floor.

“I could say the same thing about you,” Roman grumbles.

Janus raises his brows. “Am I sensing jealousy?”

Roman nearly trips. “Huh?”

“There are plenty of people around here who are checking you out too, you know. Your knight in shining armor could be waiting for you in the next room.”

“Oh! Yeah. Right.” Roman presses his lips into a thin line. He takes a swig of his beer to hold himself back from admitting that he cares little about other people, when the only person he wants to impress is the one beside him.

They meet up with AJ and Davi at the beer pong table and, instantly, the match begins. Also immediately, the tension on Roman’s shoulders disappears, replaced by amusement at Janus’s struggle to get a ball in.

“What’s this?” Roman laughs. “Something Janus Dean _can’t_ do?”

“Shut up,” he hisses.

Roman ends up teaching him, holding his arm to direct the swing every so often. Janus eventually gets it, and they easily win three rounds and laugh at their opponents stumbling over their feet and saying garbled curses out of intoxication.

Exhausted, Roman and Janus rest on the couch and observe their peers—dancing, screaming, singing, and making out.

Roman is focused most especially on that last part.

He steals a shy glance at his friend who watches the chaos before them with a look of peace. It makes Roman laugh a bit; only Janus could look completely unbothered by the hormone-induced ruckus, as though it makes him feel far better about himself knowing he’s above them.

“Want to hear a joke?” Janus slurs, leaning close to talk to Roman amid the deafening music. “A horse walks into a bar…”

Roman stares at Janus, stray hair sticking onto his forehead and his eyes slightly dazed. “Hm?” Roman quirks the corner of his lips upward in response.

“Several of the patrons quickly get up and leave, realizing the potential danger in the situation,” Janus finishes, seemingly proud of himself.

 _Dear Zeus, what a dork_ , Roman thinks. Oh, how he wants to kiss him senseless.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he finds himself asking before he could even realize it.

Janus furrows his brows. “Sorry?”

Roman coughs. Confidence, Remus told him. Stand your ground. Chin up. Be bold. “Let’s get out of here.”

Janus blinks slowly and grins. “Alright.”

Roman is a romantic. He wants to sweep someone off their feet with prose and poetry. He wants to serenade them with love songs and dance with them under the moonlight. He wants to hold their face and whisper secrets in their ear with devotion.

He’s spent nights dreaming of his greatest love. He imagined them with a chiseled jaw, bright blue eyes, a talent for playing the piano or the violin, and can speak Spanish or French eloquently.

Janus was none of that. Roman didn’t mind at all.

Because now, he can’t imagine anyone else he’d want to love so fiercely and tenderly.

Roman drives around the neighborhood, tapping on the wheel to focus on something other than his beating heart. Janus is talking animatedly this time, expending the drunken energy he has stored in his system. Roman finds it both odd and charming seeing this weird side of Janus, who often keeps his lips zipped up tight, now having no inhibitions whatsoever to speak about the most mundane topics he could think of.

Roman could listen to his voice all day.

He finds an empty playground and, in a spur of the moment, he pulls over and parks by its entrance. 

If Janus finds it strange that Roman decided to stop by a playground in the middle of the night, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he opens the door just as Roman does and steps into the chilly outside.

He shivers. “Ugh, wonderful.”

Roman laughs. “You get cold so easily.”

“Something I’m _oh so_ proud of.”

Without a thought, Roman takes off his jacket and hands it over to Janus, who stares at it with wide eyes.

“It’s much warmer than whatever you’re wearing,” he says.

Janus takes off his own sweater and exchanges it for the jacket. “Careful,” he says, uncharacteristically soft.

Roman raises a brow at him and looks down at the sweater. He feels something small and cold pinned in the inner lining and, when he flips it over, sees the pin safely hidden there.

He fights a smile as he gently sets it down at the backseat of his car. He then stares at Janus, pulling Roman’s leather jacket tightly around his body.

Janus flashes a look of suspicion at him. He’s guarded, even when he’s slightly flushed from the beer and alcohol and the high of the party. “What is this, Roman King?”

“What’s what?”

Janus gestures vaguely in the air.

Roman’s smile is sheepish. “What do you want it to be?”

He watches the way Janus hesitates, his mouth opening and closing in a struggle to decide how to answer Roman’s question. Roman feels like he should be terrified by this reaction—if only Janus didn’t look so breathtaking.

“Dance with me.”

Janus tilts his head and laughs with disbelief. “Here?”

Roman takes out his phone and plays a song, and Janus attempts to hide his grin with his hand. “God,” he mutters.

“You love this song,” Roman teases. “You can’t resist.”

He holds out his hand and Janus, against his better judgment, takes it.

Roman is a romantic. He wants to sweep someone off their feet with prose and poetry. He wants to serenade them and dance with them and hold their face as if he’s holding their fragile heart in the palm of his hands.

At this moment, he comes to realize that Janus is a romantic too. He sees the tinge of pink on his cheeks, forcing down his giddy from dancing to the off-Broadway recording of _Hadestown_ ’s “Lover’s Desire,” conscious of his steps and sways as Roman guides him, hands placed on his waist, in time with the violins, guitars, and beats. Roman laughs, and Janus does too, in spite of himself, in spite of where they are, in spite of everything that had happened that led to this night.

Their movements slow and Roman timidly places one hand over Janus’s that rests on his own shoulder, and he entwines their trembling fingers together. From goofy grins, their expressions shift to cautiousness as they sway in time with the music, hand in hand, mere inches apart.

For a split second, Janus’s eyes flicker to Roman’s parted mouth—enough for Roman to muster the courage to finally, _finally_ lean forward and place an earnest kiss on Janus’s lips.

He feels Janus’s body tense under his grip and he steps back, becoming fully aware of the line he just crossed—the line that had always been there, the line they’ve always seen but never dared to touch. Roman had just did, all for the grace of a kiss. “Fuck,” he stammers, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—shit.”

Janus knits his brows, a blush growing on his cheeks. “You moron.” He puts his hand in the side of Roman’s face and pulls him back in for a deep kiss.

Roman sighs and wraps his arms around Janus’s body, savoring the taste of Janus’s tongue dancing around his. He’s never realized how much he wanted this, how badly he wanted this to happen. They pull away after a full minute, gasping for breath and laughing at how flustered they both look.

Roman gazes at Janus—eyes sparkling, hair slightly askew, and nose red and cold from the chilly evening breeze. He smiles with longing. He never thought a boy could look so beautiful under the moonlight the way Janus does at that moment. If he could freeze this instance, he would—only to relish the fact that he could be so lucky to be gazed upon with so much affection, as though he’s being seen for who he is, as though he is worth so much more than what he always thought, as though he is worth loving with every fiber of someone’s being.

And with his whole heart, Roman breathes, “I love you.”

There is silence that comes after the confession. Roman thinks he should have seen it coming. But he doesn’t because, through the hundreds of imaginings he has done about how this moment would go, he never once expected that Janus would stare back with a look of utter dismay.

“You _what_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly: Ares represents the yet-to-be-revealed Orange Side. Meanwhile, Billy is a character from one of Thomas's shorts. In the previous chapter, I also mentioned Chad, who appeared in the same short as Billy.
> 
> Secondly: I'm sorry for this wonderful cliffhanger. :')


	35. The Kiss, The Riot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Roman finally learns the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Hadestown"

Drowning.

That’s what Roman feels like, staring at Janus’s shocked expression.

“You love me?” Janus whispers. “Oh no. No, Roman.”

“No…what?” Roman manages to say.

“You shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t _what_?” Roman can feel his heart breaking with every jagged breath he takes into his aching chest. He’s never seen Janus this troubled since that evening in his bedroom when he held his hand and heard him sing with so much sadness.

He watches Janus compose himself and pull his jacket on tighter. “I need some time to think.” He walks over to the car and climbs in, closing the door before Roman could say anything more.

Roman grunts in frustration, running his fingers through his hair. _Stupid! Stupid! Why did you have to say that?!_

Cursing himself, Roman stomps to the driver’s seat and slams the door with a loud thud. He starts the engine and drives, choking from the suffocating silence between them.

They arrive at the house that is a few lots down Janus’s real house, where Roman usually stops, and Roman pulls the breaks.

Janus doesn’t move.

“We could forget everything I said,” Roman murmurs.

Janus scoffs quietly. “That would be _oh so_ convenient.”

“I don’t understand. You kissed me. Were you planning to just pretend it never happened and keep being platonic pals?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“This is _different_.” Roman curls his hands into tight fists. “There’s a spark between us, Janus. There always has been that we’ve just been choosing to ignore all these years. I don’t understand why we can’t... _try_.”

“It’s complicated.”

Roman’s voice quivers in confusion and anger. “How can it be complicated? We’re 16! It’s either you have feelings for me or you don’t.”

“Oh my god,” Janus mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That night, when you stayed over... you can’t lie to me and say there was nothing there.”

Janus looks at Roman and insists, “There _wasn’t_.”

Roman blanches.

“It’s the same way we’ve always been. I don’t see what made you think that night was so special.”

Roman keeps his eyes on Janus. “Then tell me that you don’t like me. Not even a little bit.”

It is just for a split second, but Roman sees Janus wince. In that split second, he feels hope rise—that maybe Janus is just terrified of taking this step beyond their friendship and risk everything they’ve built together. And so he pleads, “If it’s because of the friendship, I... nothing has to change. I care so deeply about you. I haven’t felt this way in a long while. I can prove to you that my feelings for you are real. Let me court you. Let me sweep you off your feet. I can wait as long as you need me to. We’re—we’re meant to be together, I just know it. Give me a chance, Jan.”

Janus glances at Roman with a lump in his throat. “Believe me, Roman. It isn’t you. It’s all me. You deserve someone better. Just not me.”

“Bullshit!” Roman hits the steering wheel. “What does that even mean? I can’t understand you!”

“Trust me,” Janus voice quivers. “It’s much better that you don’t know.”

Roman’s heart drops. Then, he says sullenly, “You’re so full of secrets. I don’t why you can’t just tell me. Am I not your best friend?”

“Roman...”

“I defended you. I fought for you. I _trusted_ you. Don’t I deserve this much?”

Silence settles once again, and both struggle to form words to save them from this wretched quiet. But before Janus could speak, Roman beats him to it with a dreaded question.

“Have you just been stringing me along with your deceit because you know I’ll blindly believe you no matter what?”

Janus’s surprised expression, caught off-guard by Roman’s accusation, says it all.

Roman sucks in a breath. “It’s true, isn’t it? That you’ve been flattering me with lies all those years ago just to make me feel good about myself?”

“Oh, don’t act so shocked,” Janus replies. “You really thought I would sincerely return your animosity towards me with kindness? You were so desperate for validation. I merely did what I had to do just to make all our lives easier.”

“So you meant none of it? Everything you’ve ever said to me?”

“That was so long ago, Roman. Why are you bringing it up now?”

“Because I don’t know anymore if you’re actually the person I thought you were!”

“Because I’m not!” Janus bites back. “Is _that_ what you wanted to hear?”

Roman stares at him, crestfallen, then lets out a single chuckle. “Figures.”

Janus looks at his hands. The dashboard. The streetlamp. Anywhere else. Just not at Roman’s dismayed expression—afraid that, if he does, he’d tear down his walls and profess the truth that he keeps locked inside his chest.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says with forced nonchalance as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

Roman snatches his wrist. Janus holds his breath, feeling a rush of fear in his system. Roman’s gaze morphs into desperation. “Jan, please.”

_Please love me back._

“Get a hold of yourself, Roman,” Janus whispers with venom. He pulls back, opens the car door, and closes it behind him, staring at the pavement as Roman quickly drives away.

Alone—as he has always been. As he has always should be.

Janus shivers from the cold and freezes. He looks down at himself and sees he’s still wearing Roman’s jacket, realizing he left his at the backseat with the pin that Roman gave him. He curses under his breath and begins his walk of shame to his home.

14 missed calls.

Janus paces in his bedroom, biting the corner of his thumb, as he dials Roman’s number for the 15th time that day.

When it fails to get picked up, Janus groans in frustration. “Drama King,” he seethes. He opens his contacts list and goes for Plan B.

On the third ring, a voice blurts out, “Fuck you.”

Janus sighs. “Remus, I need to ask a favor.”

“Are you fucking kidding? My brother is in his room eating his third pint of Eddy’s and blasting Carly Rae Jepsen on loop.”

“If you do this for me, I’ll explain everything.”

“Why would I listen to you?”

Janus pinches the bridge of his nose. “Because I need someone smart enough to talk some sense into me.”

A few beats and he hears Remus sigh. “Fine. What do you need?”

Janus tells Remus to meet him at the playground near their school and he waits with apprehension, squeezing the folded black jacket he had on his hands.

He spots Remus approaching from the distance, the yellow sweater dangling from his left arm, and waves timidly.

“Here,” Remus says, tossing the sweater towards Janus who immediately checks the inner lining for the double-headed snake pin. He sighs in relief when he sees that it’s still there.

Remus, who watches Janus closely, says, “I could have burned that jacket for what you did to Roman.”

“Roman clearly doesn’t handle rejection well,” Janus mutters.

Remus rolls his eyes. “Well? You wanted to talk? Then talk.”

“I need Roman to understand that we can’t be in a relationship.”

“And why not? What’s wrong with dating my brother? Is he too dumb for you?”

“Jesus Mary and Joseph,” Janus says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ _Nothing_ is wrong with him.”

“Then why? I just—I don’t get it. You two are practically a couple before Roman confessed his feelings for you! Don’t bullshit me with excuses. I’ve seen the way you look at him. You don’t want him to love you because you’re scared, not because you just want to stay friends!” Remus shakes his head in frustration.

Janus closes his eyes. He remembers telling Remus that he’s much sooner die in a pigsty than admit anything to him. Just another one of his long list of lies.

“You’re right, Remus.”

“About what?”

“Oh my god,” he mutters. “I do...have feelings.”

Remus blinks, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. “What was that?”

Janus groans. “I like Roman! Obviously! Who wouldn’t?! When he’s perfect, and talented, and kind, and sweet, and so, so stupid?!”

Remus’s mouth hangs agape at Janus before he breaks into a teasing grin. “You fucking bitch. _You fucking bitch!_ You _do_ like him! Since when?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me or I’ll seal your locker with a hot glue gun.”

Janus buries his red face on the palms of his hands. “For the love of— _years_ , okay? I’ve nursed a secret crush on him for years and I _hate_ myself for it.”

Remus blinks. “So what’s wrong?”

“Because I’m not what he deserves,” Janus laments. “He has no idea who I really am. We’re too different. I’m nothing like him. I can’t give him what he wants.”

Remus is unimpressed. “Hm, pretty sure it’s not up to you to decide whether Roman deserves something or not.”

“You wouldn’t understand. It’s complicated.”

“Shut up. We’re teenagers, there’s nothing complicated about it. It’s not like you’re married. Grow a fucking spine and tell Roman the truth.”

Janus stares long and hard at Remus’s eyes. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

Remus scowls and says nothing. When neither of them speaks, he places a hand on Janus’s knee and says, “Look, I don’t give a rat’s ass what your deal is and what sorta fucked up life you’re living running around helping people with their plots for vengeance and that—” Remus bites his bottom lip. “—that you’ve got _issues_ you can’t share with us, or something. But my brother is giving himself diabetes and crying into his pillow even after he fought for your honor all this time. He’s convinced himself that you’ve just been toying with his feelings. If you really do like him, he deserves to know everything straight from your pretty mouth. Grow some balls and be honest with him. It’s the least you can do to the one person who believed in you when the rest of us wouldn’t.”

Janus stares at Remus, failing to conceal the trepidation in his eyes. He knows that this is the only thing he must do now. One last string to cut.“He’ll hate me,” he whispers with tightened fists.

Remus sighs at that. “Well, at least you wouldn’t have any regrets.” He stands and wipes the dust off his pants. “Come on. I’ll talk to him. You can wait outside the house.”

Janus wrestles with what to say. With a nod, he follows Remus’s lead.

Janus doesn’t know how long he’s been there outside the King’s home. He has been staring at the road while seated on the steps to their front door for what seems to be over an hour, rehearsing what he’s meant to tell Roman when he finally comes out of the damn house.

He bites down the urge to throw a rock at Roman’s window for the nth time. Fortunately, he doesn’t need to entertain the thought once more because the door clicks and swings open, revealing a tired-looking Roman trying his best to scowl at Janus.

“Glad you decided to come out of hiding,” Janus says with a snide.

“That’s seriously the first thing you’re going to tell me?” Roman spits as he closes the door and drops himself on the steps next to Janus. “What do you want?”

“I want you to listen to me,” Janus tells him, gritting his teeth. “Here’s your jacket, by the way.”

“You keep saying that you want me to listen to you, but you’re not _telling_ me anything!” Roman remarks, grabbing the jacket.

“Oh, because it’s _obviously_ easy for me to do this.” Janus clasps his trembling hands but not quick enough for Roman not to notice.

Roman falters slightly, burying his face on his hands and heaving a sigh. “Well, go on then. I’m listening.”

Janus purses his lips, not knowing where to begin. Minutes pass and Roman keeps his gaze at him, waiting patiently.

“Did you...” Janus begins. “Did you really mean it? What you said.”

Roman gulps. He nods hesitantly.

Janus sighs, unable to hide the blush on his cheeks. “You’re such an idiot. I like you too, you know.”

“You...do?”

Janus nods and Roman’s voice breaks.

“Then why? Why don’t you want to be together?”

Janus’s chest aches a little seeing Roman that way. And so he pushes the truth out of his system. “Remember how in ‘Moulin Rouge,’ Satine kept trying to dissuade Christian from falling in love with her because she was trying to protect him from eventual heartbreak?”

Roman pales. “You’re dying?”

Janus pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sweetheart, no. Satine had secrets she couldn’t tell Christian out of fear of breaking him.” He breathes out slowly. “I’m saying that I haven’t been completely honest with you. With anyone.”

“I know that,” Roman says, rubbing his temple. “That’s all I’ve ever been hearing from Virgil and the rest these past weeks. But I mean, it can’t be _that_ serious, right? Whatever you say isn’t going to change how I see you.”

Janus smiles in spite of himself. He wishes it is that simple. He wishes it is that easy. He allows himself this one last reprieve. “How _do_ you see me, Roman King?”

A million emotions flash on Roman’s face. Quietly, he confesses, “Like you’re everything I ever wanted to have.”

It tears Janus apart when he says that. Janus looks away, unable to take much more of their shared misery. “You really are a moron,” he says shakily.

And be begins to tell his story—the truth and nothing but.

At that moment, for the first time in years, Janus becomes an open book.

Roman says nothing for the next five minutes. It’s evening now and Janus shivers from the cold—not just from the atmosphere but from the silence of the boy beside him.

Roman’s voice is low when he speaks. “Everything I ever knew about you…was all a lie?”

Janus closes his eyes. “It seems so.”

“I believed everything you told me. I’m so stupid.”

Janus doesn’t know what to say to that.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Roman glares at him. “Is your name really even Janus?”

“Okay, that’s uncalled for,” Janus huffs. “I didn’t lie about _everything_.“

“But now I’m looking back at all our memories together these years and wondering if any of them were even real.” Roman’s voice quivers. “It’s bad enough that I had to accept that our friendship began with you being fake nice to me; now, I have to come to terms with you _lying_ about your parents and what you actually do when you say you’re running ‘errands’ or watching Netflix? Like, were we really friends the way I always thought we were?”

Irked by the accusation, Janus snarls, “Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything that’s going on in my life, like you tend to do.” 

Roman is taken aback and looks away, covering his mouth with his hand in shock. “How is this happening?” he murmurs. “I thought what we had was special.”

“It is.” Janus closes his eyes and sighs. “It is. Roman, I won’t hold it against you to doubt me when I tell you that I would give you the world if I could. Anything you want. I wouldn’t hesitate at all.”

He touches the pin on his chest. “But I can’t. You’re Prince Charming with a perfect life, and I’m just a snake crawling in the shadows of a dusty cellar just trying the survive.”

“My life isn’t perfect.”

“Maybe so, but it sure beats the one I’m living.”

Roman rubs his temples in frustration. “See, you say these things and I… my instinct now is to _not_ trust your words. It’s confusing me! How should I know that you’re not just saying them to string me along in your charade again? And when I’m not looking, you’ll be patting yourself on the back, saying ‘Wow, what a confounding idiot Roman King is! Throw him another bone, see how he likes it!’”

Janus purses his lips into a tight line. “You’d think a person could use a little sympathy after he just told you his tragic life story. But sure, paint me as the villain, Roman. That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?”

“I stood up for you when they started doubting you!” Roman is fuming now, hot and bitter tears stinging his eyes. “How am I going to face any of them now, knowing I’ve been wrong this whole time?”

“Gee, what a conundrum.”

“Stop that!” Roman shakes his head. “Stop being so sarcastic! Why couldn’t you have just told me about all this? Even after I asked you? I’m _broken_ , Janus.”

“I—” Janus clamps his mouth shut. He knows that no matter what he says, no matter how truthful, Roman’s mind is too clouded by disbelief to accept him now.

In another reality, Janus convinces himself that Roman would welcome him with open arms and forgive him for the tales he’s spun and the secrets he’s kept through the years. But that fantasy is just another lie he invents inside his head, and he’s tired of keeping up with it.

God, he’s so tired.

His silence burns on Roman’s skin, and Roman laughs in spite of himself. “Jesus Christ Superstar, I’m such a fool. Despite everything, I still can’t bring myself to let you go.”

“Roman...”

“Just leave.”

“I won’t.”

“Why not?!”

Janus keeps his voice steady. “Because I’m sorry about all of this. We can start over. Let me make it right this time.”

Roman stares at him with lips parted and Janus, in spite of all the odds, hangs onto that tiny fleck of hope he feels rise in his chest.

But the spark instantly disappears as Roman turns away. “I don’t want to be around someone who’s nothing but a two-faced son of a bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, Roman.


	36. Catharsis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Remus confronts Roman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your comments! The comments in the previous chapter cracked me up so much, they were all in caps HAHA!

Roman stares at the asphalt, shivering from the cold and the cruelty of his words.

Did he do the right thing? Of course he didn’t. But he realized this too late, when Janus pulled back with hurt and anger and, after hissing a tense goodbye, stood and left. 

Roman had pulled the trigger and he can no longer take it back. Janus is gone—from his side, from his life—and he has never felt so empty.

The door behind him slowly swings open and he is bathed in a stream of light. He braces himself for what he is about to hear.

“Ro.”

No response.

A sigh. “Get inside, you monkey, you’re gonna catch a cold.”

Roman stands and walks inside the house, and Remus swiftly closes the door and rubs the back of his head with uncertainty.

“You heard everything,” Roman asks, though it seems that he already knows the answer.

“Yeah,” Remus mutters, deciding against admitting that he already knew.

“You should be screaming at me right now.”

“What good will that do?”

Roman says nothing, and Remus wraps his arm around Roman’s shoulders and leads him up to his bedroom where he lets Roman sit on his bed while he settles in front of him on his study table stool.

“What are you thinking right now?” Remus asks him.

He shrugs. “How worthless I feel.”

Remus winces.

Roman rubs the temples of his forehead. “I’ve ruined everything.”

“Yeah well… shit happens.”

“Geez.”

“What?”

“You’re supposed to make me feel better.”

Remus gives him a look. “What do you want me to say?”

Roman frowns, then sighs in defeat.

No one says anything for a minute and Remus reaches over to his side, grabbing a bag from his dresser and placing it next to Roman. Roman peers inside and sees it filled with makeup and brushes.

Remus picks up his liquid foundation and a brush and beckons Roman to lean forward, and Roman does so without complaint.

“Look, I also promised to start telling you the truth,” Remus says, squirting a dollop of foundation at the back of his hand and swirling his brush on it. “And the truth is, you were a real asshole back there.”

Roman winces. “I know.”

“Janus lied to us, but who wouldathunk his life is so fucked up? Not saying that he should be excused for what he did—bitch has got to pay. But _man_ , you’re a huge dick.”

“I _know_ Remus.”

“Well, what are you gonna do now?”

“Wait for you to kill me with one of your huge swords.”

“I ain’t letting you off that easy.”

Roman feels his eyes water but keeps it in. Remus starts working on the concealer and sets it with setting powder. When he’s done, he asks, “Roman, did you ever blame me for dad dying?”

“What?” Roman furrows his brows. “Why would you say that?”

Remus takes out his eyeshadow palette and stares at the rainbow of colors before dipping his brush on the bright red shade.

“‘Cause I always have,” he admits. “It’s my fault he left the house that day. It’s my fault that his last memory of us is us being angry and ignoring him.”

He holds Remus’s wrist just as Remus is about to color his lids. “Remmy, that was both our faults. I never blamed just you. How could I?”

Remus shakes off Roman’s grip and continues applying the makeup. “I was always making you do things with me. I was the one who got most upset about the ice cream. But I dragged you into it.”

“Still. I never thought of it that way.”

“I know. That’s why you were able to move on from his death so quickly.”

Roman purses his lips. “I wouldn’t say quickly…”

“Quicker than me, at least. Actually, I’m still not over it.” Remus starts working on the other eye. “You found theater and started being so happy doing something on your own for once that school jerks started liking you for. And then you stopped being scared of being judged for being gay. And then you found someone who—”

Remus pauses. He meets Roman’s eyes, which were staring right back at his with complete attention. He smiles. “…You found a guy who made you feel so happy and validated and like you’re worth something. The way I have always tried making you feel. And when you looked at him with so much admiration, I was fucking jealous. Like, ‘Who is this _pendejo_?!’ I was so scared of losing you.”

“Then, you stopped sharing things with me, hanging out with me… I felt so alone,” he continues sullenly. “But I let you do your own thing ‘cause that’s what an awesome brother would do. But it was hard. All my life, I was so used to you needing me. Now…I started needing you more.”

Remus leans back a bit and tilts his head, analyzing Roman’s face, before reaching this time for the lipsticks.

“You know, when dad died he… I remember the last thing he ever said to me was to always take care of you ‘cause you were our little sensitive baby.” He laughs bitterly. “I really tried to. I tried so fucking hard. I wanted you to be the happiest. I didn’t care what everyone else thought of me, or what they said about me. But I never let anyone do or say shit to you.”

“But I wasn’t thinking about the things _I_ was doing or saying to you,” he continues. “I’m a shitty brother, but I really love you Roman. I liked protecting you and making you feel better. It gave me purpose when I felt lost on what to do. You mean everything to me. But I gotta face the fact that I can’t solve all your problems. I can’t keep holding your hand or pulling you back from whatever shit show you find yourself in. I need to start letting you go and do your own thing. Fight your own battles. And I gotta learn how to do stuff for myself too and accept that my world doesn’t revolve around you.”

Roman casts his eyes downward, not knowing what to say. Remus takes out the mirror and faces it towards Roman. “There, now you look like a gorgeous butt.”

Roman smiles and picks up the brushes beside him. “It’s your turn.”

He waits for Remus to finish tying his hair back before he applies the same makeup that Remus did for him. “I never stopped needing you, you know?” he whispers as he spreads the liquid foundation over Remus’s face. “If anything, I wanted to prove to you that I can take care of myself because I hated having to burden you with my problems. I was pathetic as a kid. I knew I needed to be just like you—strong, brave, and so sure of himself. I depended on you to protect me. I wanted you to see that you don’t have to worry about me anymore. I wanted you to be proud.”

“Bitch, I _am_ proud,” Remus says.

“Then you started distancing yourself from me. Or maybe we both did. But I never did it willingly.”

He fights the tears in his eyes as he lays on the concealer. “I’m so sorry that you felt so lonely all these years. I wish you talked to me. I wish I talked to you, too. You just seemed like you were fine doing god knows what in your room. And I really wanted to stop running to you for stupid advice. I didn’t think that it would hurt you like that. I’m sorry, Rem. I guess I’m a shitty brother too.”

Remus snorts. “Well, we _are_ twins.”

Roman chuckles and he starts painting on Remus’s eyelids with his favorite colors. Suddenly, Remus breaks into a grin.

“What?” Roman asks. “What’s so funny?”

“I just remembered what you said to Janus a while ago.” Raising his voice to mimic Janus’s, he says, “ _How do you see me, Roman King?”_ Then, he lowers his voice to say, “ _Like you’re everything I ever wanted to have._ ”

Roman drops the brush and groans, “Oh my god, kill me.”

“That was the sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life!” Remus gushes, clutching his chest. “What other cheesy lines do you have hidden in your noggin?”

“None if he doesn’t talk to me again.” Roman picks up the fallen brush and continues working on Remus’s eyes. “I’m so mad. I want to stay mad. I want to push him away, demand he atone for all the lies he told me. And yet—” he gulps. “And yet the more I think about him, about what happened, about _us_ , the more I realize that I still want him. I want to hold him close and let his worries melt into mine. My desire for us to be together just rises and swells.”

Remus snorts. “Swells.”

Roman grimaces, and Remus clamps his mouth shut. “So what’s the problem?” he asks.

Roman looks away in defeat. “You can’t have a relationship that’s founded in lies.”

Remus winces, not knowing what to say to that. He agrees, after all. But is this really where it ends?

“You might regret it,” he says.

“He doesn’t even want me.”

“You’re kidding right? He told me point-blank that he spent years pining over your hot ass. Don’t quote me on that.” Remus places a comforting hand on Roman’s shoulder. “He never said anything because he’s ashamed of his life—afraid that you’d see him as someone less than what you expected. The bitch spilled his guts a while ago hoping you’d forgive him. If that isn’t proof enough for you that he wants to be better, that he wants you to help him be better, just so you could be happy with him, then you really are the stupidest kid alive in this motherfucking town.”

“But what if it all just goes to shit anyway because I don’t trust him anymore?” Roman cries in frustration, running his hand through his hair a few times.

Remus opens and closes his mouth, thinking of what to answer. He sighs and says, quietly, “I dunno. I have no idea, Ro. I dunno what to say for you to be able to trust him again. I dunno what J might be truly thinking or feeling about this whole situation.”

He swallows thickly. “But are you just gonna let fear hold you back from potential happiness? You have to at least try.”

Roman gasps and realization dawns on him like a slap to the face. It’s just like when he auditioned for a new production years ago, after having felt the dismay and shame of losing a role to the new kid. He was completely terrified that he wasn’t going to perform as the lead again, but he lowered his pride and went for it still. Theater broke his heart once, but he moved past it and is now the happiest he could be.

“Shit,” Roman curses, and Remus knows that he’s finally knocked some sense into him.

“You gotta fix this shit, bitch, or I’ll maim you both,” Remus says, shoving Roman’s shoulder.

Roman heaves the loudest sigh. “If he ever wants to see me again, that is.”

“I know he does.”

“How are you so sure?”

Remus grins. “Cause he really, really, _really_ liked that fucking pin.”

Roman blushes. “That makes zero sense,” he grunts, even though he knows perfectly well what Remus tried to say. He hands his brother the mirror, and Remus smiles widely at his reflection. “Damn, I’d bang us. I’ll get the camera!”

He fetches the polaroid from his box inside the closet and sits next to Roman, who fixes his hair in a hurry. “Okay, one... two...”

A click and a flash, and a film photo slowly emerges. They stare at it until the picture comes up, and Roman rests his head on Remus’s shoulder.

“Hey, Rem?”

“What?”

“I love you.”

Remus leans his head on Roman’s. “Stupid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, this is the last time these twin idiots will ever need to talk and atone in this story.
> 
> \--
> 
> Roman's line "My desire for us to be together just rises and swells." is inspired by the line "But the more I think it, the more I want her, the more my desire rises and swells" from the movie "Ah-ga-ssi" (2016) directed by Park Chan-wook. It was such a beautiful quote that I couldn't /not/ use it here.


	37. Blue Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Janus faces the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Spring Awakening"

Despite Remus knocking some sense into him, Roman isn’t ready to face reality and talk to Janus that Monday. He refuses to face anyone for that matter, especially not Patton or Virgil. Heck, he’ll even drink a carton of milk before he hears Logan’s I-told-you-so’s. Roman is a prideful boy; he isn’t about to put himself in yet another vulnerable position after his self-esteem came crashing down that weekend.

So, when the lunch bell rings, Roman dashes out of the campus to seek refuge by his car in the parking lot. He kicks the dried leaves and stones along the way, his head hanging low. When he looks up to check where his car is parked, he sees an older man standing by the small vehicle next to his, eyes trained on the thin book he is reading.

As Roman nears him, he notices that it’s a book of Jack Gilbert poems, similar to what Janus had bought at the secondhand bookshop on his birthday. He sighs wistfully, feeling an ache in his chest, not realizing that he had been staring.

“Is my car in the way of something?”

The sudden question shakes Roman out of his daze and he gapes at the man who is looking at him with a faraway expression of concern.

“Oh! Sorry, uhm,” Roman stammers sheepishly. “It’s just that my friend owns that same book. I’ve never read any of the poems though. I’ve been meaning to.”

The man smiles and thumbs through the pages and finds a poem dog-eared at the corner. “‘Horses At Midnight Without A Moon’. You should start with that. A poem of persisting through a dark night, though hope feels like an elusive dream, to find dawn breaking and flowers blooming in the distance.”

“Sounds beautiful.”

“Ask your friend to read it for you.”

Roman laughs. Janus, reciting poetry to him. If only. “I will.”

Roman leans his back against his Honda Fit, gazing at the bright blue sky above him but observing the man at the corner of his eye. His clothes are simple yet stylish, his brown hair slicked back, and his eyes slightly puffy and with dark circles underneath them. Somehow, those eyes look familiar.

He doesn’t know why he feels compelled to seek this stranger for advice. But he does anyway in the hope of gaining a bit more clarity in the perspective of someone who has probably experienced much more heartache than he has.

“Is there a poem about remorse and forgiveness?” He finds himself asking. 

The man hums and he browses the book until he stops and clears his throat.

“ _Of course it was a disaster._

_That unbearable, dearest secret_

_has always been a disaster._

_The danger when we try to leave._

_Going over and over afterward_

_what we should have done_

_instead of what we did._

_But for those short times_

_we seemed to be alive. Misled,_

_misused, lied to and cheated,_

_certainly. Still, for that_

_little while, we visited_

_our possible life._ ”

Roman lets out a breathy laugh. “Perfectly sums up how I feel.”

“The only way out of this labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.”

“Even if everything you’ve ever known about the person has been a lie?”

The man’s smile has a deep sadness to it. “Especially then. Because if you’re fortunate enough, you’ll get to meet them all over again.”

“Does it get easier when you’re older?”

“Truthfully? Not at all.”

Roman lets out a long sigh. Maybe in time, he can bring himself to do so. 

The man checks his watch. “My son is taking a really long time.”

“Do you need help finding an office or...?”

“No, it’s quite alright. I don’t think he’ll be happy with me wandering around without him.”

That’s true. “Okay,” Roman says. “Well, I’ll be off, Mr...?”

“Jace."

 _Don’t be weird and make a “36 Questions” reference, Roman._ “Mr. Jace. For the record—” ( _You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?_ ) “—I feel quite better. Have a great day!”

“I’m glad then,” the man chuckles, mildly surprised. “And you are?”

“Roman.”

The man pauses and he smiles with a spark in his eye. “Roman. It’s good to meet you.”

Roman blinks and he nods politely, waving before turning on his heel to walk back to campus.

There are many things that can irritate Janus Dean.

But not a lot can render him this broken and frustrated and angry—with himself, with the people around him, and with the fucking leaky faucet in the sink of the boy’s bathroom that’s interrupting his mental breakdown inside the cubicle.

He moves his hand from where it’s cradling his head and sees the time on his watch. He’s running quite late. He sniffs and rubs his palms over his eyes, before standing from the toilet seat and exiting the cubicle. As he washes his hands, he scowls at his reflection—the tracks of dried tears and his red nose completely obvious under the fluorescent light. He splashes his face a bit, fixes his hair, and dries himself off with tissues. Then, he touches himself up with powder and tinted lip balm—after all, if he’s about to face impending doom, he might as well look snatched.

He leaves the bathroom and drags his feet outside towards the parking lot. There are no students around as expected; he’s timed his appointment well so that no one he personally knows would spot him outside the building and trudging through the noontime chill to approach a man waiting with a book in hand.

Janus stands in front of him, sighing. The man looks up at the sound, closes the cover of the book, and wordlessly follows Janus back inside the campus to head towards the Principal’s office.

Principal Warner, after last Friday’s play, doesn’t give the club detention nor suspension. This is because he knows it had all been Janus’s idea. And to spare the rest from disciplinary action for disobedience and dishonesty, Principal Warner instead requests to meet with Janus and his father to discuss the teen’s deportment through the years.

Janus had been dreading this moment. He had been forcing himself to not think about it since speaking with the Principal after the play for the sake of enjoying the post-performance high with Roman and the after-party that led to an emotional disaster and ruined friendship, but there is no escaping it now that he’s walking side-by-side with the man he’s kept secret from everyone he ever knew.

When they enter Principal Warner’s office, Janus drops himself with a passive-aggressive thud on the opposite-facing chair, crossing his legs together, placing his hands over his knee, and holding his head high.

Jace sits on the chair next to Janus and greets the Principal with nervous politeness.

“Mr. Dean,” Principal Warner nods. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

“Not in the most judicious circumstances, but likewise,” Jace answers.

“Are you aware of why I requested to see you today?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

Janus snorts. Dry humor is something he and his father definitely share.

Principal Warner flashes a look at Janus. “Your son was part of the recent production staged by our theater club. I find it regrettable that you were not able to watch it. Janus’s performance was extraordinary.”

He picks up a folder from his table. “However, he had also gone through lengths to outwit me with their script after I had specifically told them to remove a specific scene in the production. Admittedly, I’m impressed. But I cannot simply let this go unsanctioned.”

“What was the scene?” Jace asks.

Principal Warner clears his throat. “A scene depicting two of our students performing intercourse.”

“It’s not like they showed their junk,” Janus mutters under his breath.

“You must understand, Mr. Dean, the efforts I must make to uphold the integrity of the school I run. Yes, we are striving to be as progressive as our youth needs us to be. But there are still certain situations where I must put my foot down.”

Janus finds it difficult to take such bullshit sitting down. But he holds his tongue, tapping his foot on the floor as a show of his aggravation.

Principal Warner knits his brows together as he observes his student. “For this, I am suspending Janus from taking part in theater club activities until further notice.”

Janus freezes in place.

Slowly, he says, “Seems quite extreme for a bed scene.”

“Perhaps,” Principal Warner shrugs. “But it’s enough to show you the consequences of deliberate disobedience for your personal enjoyment.”

“It was to make a statement that our art will not be censored. Is it wrong to fight for something you believe in?” Janus demands.

“It is not about that, Janus. You deceived me and got your way through underhanded efforts. A simple conversation with me would have sufficed, wouldn’t it?”

Janus purses his lips and says nothing.

Principal Warner leans forward to look him in the eye. “You don’t get your way in this world with dishonesty under the guise of doing something you think is right.”

A winning blow. Janus sighs deeply and presses his hand against his forehead, slumping his shoulders in defeat.

Jace gazes wistfully at his son. Then, he turns towards Principal Warner. “Is there really no other punishment? Please don’t take theater away from him.”

“I won’t,” he answers. “Just until the end of the year. That would give him ample time to think.”

They talk for 30 more minutes until Principal Warner lets them go, and Janus and his father make their way silently back to the parking lot. Janus enters their car and folds his arms together over his chest, staring out the window while Jace starts the engine.

Jace grips the wheel. “It will be alright.”

“You don’t get to tell me that,” Janus spits.

A sigh. “I’m sorry.”

No one moves for a moment.

“I’m considering therapy.”

Janus’s finger twitches. “Good for you.”

Jace nods with gratitude. “If I do, will you stop taking jobs?”

Janus whips his head to gawk at his father. “How did you know about that?”

Jace smiles sadly. “I’m not intoxicated all the time, son. I can tell when and why you come home so worn out and with envelopes of money.”

Janus doesn’t say anything.

Jace licks his bottom lip. “I’m sorry to have imposed such a heavy burden on you, Janus. You shouldn’t have. I acted selfishly without stopping to think about how it could affect you. I won’t make that mistake again. I hope you have it in you to forgive your tired old man.”

Janus sniffs. “This family is just filled with selfish pricks.”

“We just do what we want to do, huh?”

“I got it from the two of you.”

Jace breathes out lengthily. “Well, I won’t let us both go down her road.”

Janus scowls. “I never will.”

Jace backs the car and Janus’s heart skips when he notices only then that they had been next to Roman’s slot. His hand hovers over his phone but decides against it.

It’s better this way.

“When are you starting?”

“Hm?”

“Therapy.”

“Once I sign the contract for a long-term public relations project I was able to get,” Jace hums. “I believe they told me to expect an e-mail within the week.”

Janus stares at him with wide eyes. “You got that?”

“Of course. I have some other projects from old friends lined up too.”

“How?”

Jace laughs. “I told you, kid. I’m not intoxicated all the time. And I won’t be, anymore. Not anytime soon.”

Janus scoffs at this. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

They drive in silence for a few minutes.

“I meant it when I say that I don’t want you taking those jobs anymore, alright?” Jace says quietly after a while. “We’ll get you a decent one.”

“Or maybe get a sugar daddy,” Janus mumbles.

“Christ. I have barely even accepted that you’re old enough to get a boyfriend someday, let alone a sugar daddy.”

Janus watches buildings, trees, and people pass by in a blur and wonders about just how minute he feels in the grandest scheme of things. “Amazing that the way you talk feels like we’re buddies,” he says with an edge to his tone.

He fails to catch his father wince. “Well, I’m trying Janus,” Jace replies. “You might not believe it now, but I will be better eventually. I’ll do it for us. After all, I’m the one still here.”

Janus wants to feel angry. He wants to scream and shout and demand his father to repent for years of hardship and emotional burden. He feels that he has a right to. He feels that he should, and maybe act his age for once—childish and temperamental and afraid of the world beyond his understanding.

But Janus doesn’t hold a grudge. He just wants this all to be over.

“I may know somebody I can talk to, to consider getting you as a patient for not so high a cost,” he says with a deep sigh. “A father of a friend.”

Jace swallows thickly. “I wouldn’t want to ask so much from you.”

“No, it’s…” Janus purses his lips. “I want to do it.”

Suddenly, the heavy weight they bear in their hearts and on their shoulders lightens somewhat. They understand that there’s still so much to work through, and so much to fix about themselves. But here, in this small space they share, they welcome a temporary peace.

And it’s enough for now.

“Alright,” Jace says, smiling.

Janus rests his head against his seat and glances lazily at the book that sits on top of Jace’s lap. He reaches for it and skims through the pages, taking in the scent of old pages.

“Roman’s quite charming, isn’t he?”

Janus almost drops the book. “Why do you say so?” he asks steadily.

“I met him,” Jace answers. “At least, I think he’s the one you mention on occasion. Brown hair, bright eyes, a dimple on his cheek? Is that him?”

“Tons of white kids at my school fit that description.”

“He made a ’36 Questions’ reference when I told him my name.”

Janus sighs. That’s Roman, alright.

“It fills my heart to know you’re surrounded by good friends.”

 _Was_ , Janus thinks to himself. 

“Maybe one day I’ll get to meet them.”

Janus unconsciously touches the pin still attached to his collar. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself.”

Jace laughs and, for the first time to Janus, it sounds like church bells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves because the next chapter is... a /lot/. :)


	38. The One Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which shit hits the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "36 Questions"

It’s been almost a week since Roman last saw Janus. He thinks he shouldn’t care, but he couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten when he was told that Janus had been suspended from theater club activities for the next two months. It felt like the universe’s way of saying that it is working its magic to their favor, yet it is the last thing Roman actually wanted.

He’s angry still. But he doesn’t want this. He doesn’t like the feeling that he had lost Janus completely. After all, love doesn’t go away that quickly, no matter how much you want it to.

Each day, the burden grows. He’s stopped pretending to smile, make jokes, and be his usual princely self. He goes through days like a machine. Emptiness, is what it’s called. Loss. Regret. Heartbrokenness.

Virgil finds him that afternoon sitting alone hugging his knees at the steps of a covered patio. He rubs the back of his neck with unease and silently takes a seat next to him.

“Got room for your pity party?” he asks in jest.

No response.

Virgil taps his knee. “Look, I’m not good with words so I’m just gonna get my thoughts out and hope you’ll...get it, or something. I shouldn’t have done what I did. I let my fear and panic get in the way of actually understanding someone. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was just fucking everything up. And I do feel bad about it. It’s hard for me to look at Janus the same way again but I’m willing to at least try and have an open mind. I just wanted to let you know that. I shouldn’t have forced you to agree with my judgment. You and I don’t see eye to eye on many things, but I realized that I don’t want to lose this friendship either. So like...if you can forgive me, then you can, you know, help me be better too.”

Roman lifts his head but gazes at the ground. “You were right, Virgil. You always had been. I was so blind to see it.”

“Huh?”

“He lied to me. Lied to all of us. Even when I showed him that I trusted him completely, he shut me out. Maybe it really is better off this way.”

“You don’t really believe that.”

“I don’t know what to believe!” Roman says with frustration. “You instilled so much fear in my head that the minute it _did_ blow over, I pushed him away when he needed me the most. I—”

Roman’s eyes widen with realization. Then, he sighs deeply. “I pushed him away just so I wouldn’t get hurt again.”

Virgil turns away. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“Well, he’s gone,” Roman mutters. “Just like you wanted.”

Silence.

“I never wanted this,” Virgil whispers. “If I could take it all back, I would.”

Roman buries his face on his knees again. “It’s done.”

Virgil frowns at him. “That’s it? You’re just giving up?”

“I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“What you always do: fight!” Virgil feels his blood boil. “That’s what I’ve always admired about you, you know? You aren’t scared of anything. You fight for what you want because you _know_ you deserve it. All the opportunities, the open doors…you always take that leap of faith. The Roman I know wouldn’t let heartbreak stop him from still following his heart.”

Roman looks at him with surprise. Then, he breaks into a small, bemused grin. “Wow, Marilyn Morose. Who would have thought _you_ would say such uplifting words of positivity.”

“Shut up,” Virgil seethes, embarrassed. “Geez. What do you like about him anyway? He’s so different from you. Minus the dramatic flair. Or are you really just into broody, mysterious guys?”

“Ew, I didn’t like you because you were broody and mysterious,” Roman groans, scrunching up his nose. “I just thought your bangs and painted nails were cute.”

“Wow. Who knew you were that superficial.”

Roman sticks out his tongue. Then, he sighs. “I don’t know. For some reason, I could be myself around Janus and not be afraid to be made fun of _or_ coddled like a child. He spoke his mind and did what he wanted, and for some reason, I liked that about him. Like I wanted his confidence—the kind where you know you’re great, not because you’re trying to hide the parts of yourself that aren’t...like I do.”

His gestures are animated now as he continues to ramble to Virgil’s face. “But he never made me feel any less of a person than he is. He makes me feel good about myself. Like I’m _worth_ something.”

Then, he grows quiet. “I hung onto his every word and believed it. It all went straight to my head,” he sighs, shoulders sagging.

Virgil frowns, rubbing the back of his neck. “For what it’s worth, he wasn’t telling you things you didn’t already know,” he offers. “You’re a great actor and an overall amazing guy. A real prince, you know? The way he held you with such high regard…it probably wasn’t fake.”

Roman huffs. “Well, when someone gets exposed as a liar, how do you even begin to believe that everything they’ve ever told you had been real?”

Virgil bites his bottom lip. He wishes he knew how to answer that.

“Ah, well.” Roman reaches out and ruffles Virgil’s hair. “Thank you. Your comfort is a strange occurrence but much appreciated. Tell me again about how you _admire_ me?”

“I'm gonna prohibit your breathing, Princey. Don’t test me.”

Logan decides to end this once and for all. He spends half an hour searching the library, walking briskly down noisy hallways, and peering through windows to check outdoors until he finally finds the person he is looking for reading a book of poetry at the guidance counselor’s office.

“Finally found you,” Logan says, approaching him.

Janus looks up. “Would you like an award for your triumph?”

Logan takes a seat next to him. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you. You were spectacular in your show. I did not expect that ending.”

“Thanks,” Janus replies, flipping a page. “Hearing that from someone who hates theater should count for something, right?”

Logan shrugs.

After a few minutes, Janus closes his book, leans his head back against the wall, and heaves a heavy sigh. “Just so you know, nothing you say right now will make me sink much lower than I already have. So go ahead and do your worst.”

“My worst? I was looking for you because I’m very much frustrated about how everyone has been handling this situation and I am going to figuratively combust if I don’t talk to someone who I know will listen to me.”

Janus flashes him a bemused grin. “Uh-oh. Stress isn’t good for your skin, honey.”

“I just don’t understand. The answer is so simple. Why does it derail time and time again?”

“The fuck should I know. I’m done.”

“You’re ending your ties?”

“I didn’t need to end it myself. It’s clear that they don’t want me around anymore. Just doing them all a favor.”

“And you’re alright with that?”

“Look at me, Logan. Don’t I look like I’m alright with it?”

He doesn’t.

“You know, we were both right about one thing when we met in seventh grade,” Janus says with a defeated grin. “You and I are destined to be alone. Friends are a waste of time and energy. It’s time to move on.”

“That was once true for me,” Logan laments. “But it isn’t anymore. And it isn’t for you, either, no matter what you believe.”

“I have no one now, Logan. The one person who stayed by my side through it all has up and left me behind as well. And I deserved it. All I ever told him were lies.”

“Well, you can’t say you didn’t predict this result.”

“That’s what I get for hoping.”

Logan notes the carefully concealed despair in Janus’s voice that still somehow seeps through, despite the calm and collected facade that Janus maintains in his company.

“You know, not everyone left you behind,” Logan gently reassures. “Actually, I don’t think anyone left you behind at all.”

Janus chuckles. “I would have offered a snide remark about that if I didn’t agree. You all keep bothering me, it’s driving me inside. If you hate me, then just _please_ leave me alone.”

“We don’t hate you. That’s the point.”

“Speak for yourself, Evans.”

“I am. I don’t hate you. Neither does Patton. And you won’t believe me but Virgil is quite remorseful over what he did to you and is seeking to make amends.”

Janus scoffs and closes his eyes, his head still resting against the hard wall behind him.

Logan shifts on his seat to face his friend. “You’re not alone, Janus. There are people who truly care for you. Despite all this. I was thinking how unhealthy you all are for each other, but I’ve come to realize that you’re all just hurting deep inside and manifesting it in an unhealthy way—which isn’t a good reason to, but seeing as you are all coming from the same place of not knowing how to properly process your pains, it’s only natural that we all stick together to help each other through this metaphorical maelstrom.”

“I see it as a great step towards the right direction that people have realized their wrongs and are choosing to correct them,” he continues. “You cannot blame them for their knee-jerk reaction to discovering that you said falsehoods about your family, and they don’t blame you either for doing so. It is a rather unfortunate circumstance, and I empathize with you greatly. There are multiple reasons to explain why a person would compulsively fabricate their stories, and yours is completely understandable.”

Logan covers Janus’s hand with his. “Everyone just wants this war to end—you most of all, I’m certain. I’m asking you to give us one more chance, and you’ll see how willing everyone is to make it right this time. Allow us to help you. That’s what friendship is for.” He gives a lopsided grin as he muses, “I myself am trying to comprehend fully what this friendship means, but I’m learning that it’s all about forgiveness and acceptance and, above all, trust. Trust me that we can get through this together. You just have to be honest with us and I promise you that we will show you the compassion you rightfully deserve.”

Janus listens to Logan with his brows knitted and his frown deep. He says nothing for a moment, and Logan gives him time, thinking that he’s just absorbing his words to resign himself eventually to the truth. But then, Janus speaks, his voice low and cautious. “Wonderful and gripping speech, Logan, but...”

He leans forward. “What was that thing you said about ‘falsehoods about my family’? Because I only confided in Roman about that. Would you be so kind as to inform me how you got hold of this information?”

There are a few moments in Logan’s life when he realizes that he had just made a huge mistake. Once, he misused the term “infinitesimal” during a speech competition. Another time, he used a permanent marker to write his Algebra solution on the board. In both instances, including this one, Logan’s cool facade breaks into a flustered, blabbering mess where he blinks rapidly and adjusts his glasses every three seconds. 

“Oh,” he squeaks, “Roman told us.”

“Did he?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you nervous?”

“I’m not.”

Janus keeps his stare. “You’re a shit liar, Evans.”

Logan’s eyes shift to the counselor’s office door and Janus’s face darkens further.

“What did they do.”

Logan coughs. “I highly suggest you speak to Roman and the others now—”

“I can singlehandedly delay the shipment of all Crofters jams to this neighborhood for the next month, Logan,” Janus mutters dangerously. “And it would be a shame if your report card suddenly knocked you out of the honor roll.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Willing to gamble?”

“I—” Logan’s eyes shift again to the office door.

That is all Janus needed. “Thank you for your insight. I don’t believe you could have done this on your own. Shall we see Virgil ourselves to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth?”

“Wh-what horse? They don’t speak.”

Janus stands and flashes an intense look at Logan. “Don’t they? Why don’t we find out together?”

Janus has never been one to get his hands dirty when it comes to getting people to do what he wants. He ignites a fire of rage in whoever can do the work for him and allows it to spread on its own, just so he can wipe his hands clean of guilt and accountability.

Today, he doesn’t do that. Because as soon as he sees Patton and Virgil conversing by their lockers, Janus grabs hold of Virgil’s collar and slams his body against the cool, metal wall.

“You really don’t know just when to quit, do you?” he seethes.

“What are you talking about?” Virgil gasps, his face growing pale.

“So now you’re playing dumb?” Janus laughs. “After weeks of obsessing over me? If I knew you were so hot and horny for me, I would have just taken you to bed.”

Patton gapes at Logan who had finally entered the scene, winded. “What’s going on? Logan?”

“I did not foresee this happening,” he stammers. “But he knows what we did.”

“What do you mean?” Patton demands. “What did you do?”

“Dude, get away from me!” Virgil yells, shoving Janus away with no success. “If you’re talking about the... the _file_ , I only did it ‘cause I caught you doing something weird and wrong, and you never owned up to it!”

“I did,” Janus growls. “So you see what the problem is? It’s you. It has always been _you_.”

“You expected us to believe you straight up? You’re a liar! You’ve been lying to our faces, all these years!” Virgil chews the inside of his cheek. “Look, I’m sorry, okay! I shouldn’t have checked that stupid file and I shouldn’t have stalked you and invaded your privacy the way I did. I know that now!”

“Oh, now you’re taking it all back? Why? Because you pity me?” Janus leans his face dangerously close, his fists still gripping onto Virgil’s collar tightly. “You’re only sorry because you’re terrified that you’ve been the bad guy in this story after all, admit it!”

“Janus, I—”

“Whoa, this is a sight ya don’t see every day!” Remus says, suddenly appearing in the hallway with Roman and approaching the scuffle with looks of confusion.

“Janus?” Roman breathes. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, Remus,” Logan tells him guiltily. “I may have slipped up.”

Remus’s jaw drops. “You mean...? Oh _shit_.”

“Oh, Remus knows too? Well, isn’t that nice!” Janus laughs bitterly, letting Virgil go to run his hands through his hair. “I just love discovering how each of you are _so good_ at minding your own damn business!”

Roman looks sternly at his brother. “What is he talking about, Rem?”

“Ro,” Remus gulps. “By now, I sound like a broken fucking record, but I can explain.”

“No, no!” Janus wags a finger at him. “ _You_ don’t get to explain. Logan, if you please?”

All attention goes to Logan who trembles. “Virgil, Remus and I had, err, aided Virgil’s attempt to gain as much information against Janus following the incident witnessed, by performing an articulated plan to seize a document that bears information about Janus’s background.”

Roman gives him a wild look. “English please?!”

Logan merely blinks. “It _was_ in English.”

“Did you not know that your own twin brother had been out gallivanting with Virgil to invade my private matters, going as far as checking my highly confidential file at the counselor’s office?” Janus says through gritted teeth.

“Virgil needed help and I wanted to find out if it’s all true, you know?” Remus holds Roman’s wrists. “I was doing it for you! We didn’t mean to... We’re really sorry, J.”

Roman plants his face on the open palms of his hands. “I can’t believe this!” he cries. “I can’t trust _any_ of you?”

“Can we please lower down the volume of our voices? We’re in public,” Logan whispers with trepidation as a crowd of students starts circling them.

“Why did you have to tell him Logan?” Virgil groans, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head. “Everything was already fine and you _blew_ it.”

It’s Logan’s turn to act defensively. “Don’t turn the blame on me. I am the _only_ person who has been completely honest in this group.”

“Excuse me?” Roman yells. “I never lied or hidden anything from anyone, while you’re all stabbing each other behind the back. _I’m_ a victim here!”

Janus massages his brows. “Playing the damsel in distress suits you perfectly, Roman. _Do_ keep it up.”

Roman glares at him. “What does _that_ mean?”

“You knew all this was happening and chose to ignore it. Pretending you’re a fool... Who were you truly protecting, me or your own damn self?”

“You don’t get to say that to me,” Roman replies, growling. “Not after you lied to me about who you are for years.”

Janus giggles. “Oh, I know, ‘two-faced bitch’ am I right? But I think it’s better than being someone so insecure about himself that he’ll jack off to any lie and flattery he gets. No wonder you’re so _desperately_ in love with me.”

Remus shoves Janus roughly against the locker with a bang. Shocked, Roman grabs Remus’s arm and yells, “What the fuck are you doing, Rem?!”

“Don’t you dare talk smack about my brother like that!” Remus threatens, punching the doors beside Janus’s head.

Roman forcibly tries to pull his twin away. “Unhand him, you oaf!”

Virgil watches the fight, horrified. “Holyshitholyshit—”

Roman grits his teeth and lets go of Remus’s arm to shove Virgil’s shoulder in anger. “This is all your fault, you Emo Nightmare!”

“Me?!”

“Stop this!” Patton cries, his eyes shifting between Remus barking at a stunned Janus and Roman yelling expletives at Virgil.

“You don’t deserve to have friends, you paranoid freak!”

Virgil lunges forward and punches Roman’s jaw, and Roman grabs Virgil by the shoulders to shove him back against the lockers behind him. The crowd around them starts cheering as Patton watches in abject horror. The four continue yelling and shoving one another, until—

“ENOUGH!!!”

The hallway is silent as Logan heaves shallow breaths, his hands balled into fists and his face contorted into a scowl.

Slow footsteps echo throughout the floor and a portion of the audience parts to let through Principal Warner.

He looks at Logan disapprovingly. “Warning for Logan Evans, for vocally disruptive behavior.” Then, to the group: “Detention—Virgil Rivers, Roman and Remus King, and...” he pauses, staring at Janus who stared right back. “Ah, Janus Dean.”

Virgil flashes a worried look at Janus, his eyes darting between him and Principal Warner. Janus deflates, worn out and resigned, his face barely holding together with the last ounce of strength he has. Virgil’s breathing quickens, bracing himself for what he decides to do just as the Principal opens his mouth to say, “I’m gravely disappointed. Suspen—”

“He didn’t do anything,” Virgil says a little too loudly to interrupt the Principal’s sentence, hiding his shaking hands behind his back.

Janus and Roman stare at him with wide eyes.

Virgil clears his throat. “I started the fight. He was just defending himself.”

Principal Warner squints at the teen then at Janus, who is gripping Remus’s arm tightly from when he had caught it mid-punch. He tuts and shakes his head.

“Fine,” he sighs. “Janus Dean, detention for you as well.”

He glances at the crowd of students around him. “To class. NOW.”

Everyone disperses and Logan, Patton, Virgil, Roman, Remus, and Janus stay rooted in place without a word.

It is Janus who leaves first, then Virgil, then, going separate ways, Roman and Remus. Logan looks at Patton with defeat. “Fuck.”


	39. It Ends Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys head to detention.

Virgil is the first to enter the gymnasium, dragging his feet and dropping his bag with a loud thud on the bleachers. He sits with a loud sigh, stretching out his legs and increasing the volume of the music playing through his headphones.

The doors open with a violent swing, and Virgil looks up to see Roman scowling at him, a bright purple mark now more evident than before on the side of his cheek, before taking a seat just a few feet away.

Virgil removes his headphones and pauses his song. Rubbing his hands together with nervousness, he says, “Sorry about the bruise.”

Roman snorts. “Are you.”

“Yeah,” Virgil shrugs. “I’m just not sorry that I punched you.”

In spite of himself, Roman snickers. Then, with genuine remorse, he answers, “Sorry about calling you...what I called you.”

“It’s cool, Princey.”

A brief pause. “You stood up for him a while ago.”

“Eh. I was technically telling the truth. Don’t read too much into it.”

“Hah. Still pretty brave of you to do so, Vee-yore.”

Virgil plays with the threads of his ripped jeans. “Probably won’t make much of a difference anyway,” he grumbles. 

Roman considers this as he caresses his bruised cheek. “Maybe. But knowing him, he’ll probably call it even. Especially since you landed a good punch.”

Virgil snorts. “You sure about that, buddy? I basically marred his darling beloved’s handsome face.”

“Be-beloved? I’m not—! Shut up!” Roman flounders, face glowing bright red.

“Kidding.” Virgil stretches out his legs some more on the bleachers in front of him. “By the way, I thought about it. What you said.”

Roman raises a brow at him.

“Your question about how you can begin to believe whether everything someone said had been real, even after getting hurt by them. I thought about my answer.”

Virgil waits as Roman scoots much closer to Virgil, his eyes curious and attentive.

“There was a time when Remy and I weren’t okay,” Virgil begins to share. “They hurt me with their words so I pushed them away. They regretted it but I wouldn’t believe them. So, they spent a lot of effort trying to make it up to me and prove that they’re not going to leave me behind—like our dad did, like what our mom is doing. I mean, Remy would complain a lot but they’d still help me out. No matter what. They showed me how much they’re willing to go to make me feel loved, supported, and comforted.”

“So, I guess what I’m trying to say is words don’t matter that much—I mean, they do but, you know, the proof is in the actions.” He offers a strained smile. “I’m gonna start keeping that in mind too.”

Roman reflects on this until the gymnasium door swings open with a loud thud. In saunters Remus, who eyes the two with surprise.

“Huh,” he says. “Dunno what I expected. Thought you’d be at each other’s throats.”

“Don’t think that we’re going to be okay after you almost mauled Janus to a pulp,” Roman pouts.

“I _did_ tell you that I’d kill him if he ever hurt you. I’m a man of my word.”

“You could leave his beautiful face alone, thank you very much.”

Remus almost falls over the bleachers. “What, what, _what_? So now you’re in love with him again? Geez, Ro, make up your mind.”

“Just because I’m mad at him doesn’t mean my feelings are gone, Rem!”

Remus snorts at that. “Okay, but I’m pretty sure you blew your chance when you told him that you never want to see his face again after he bared his heart to you last weekend.”

“Oh, shit Princey,” Virgil mumbles, his eyes wide.

Roman’s face grows red. “I—I know, but... maybe I could...” He leans back against the steps and lets out a groan. “Fuck, what do I do?”

And arriving at the perfect moment is Janus, entering through the doors with a sour look on his face, averting his gaze from the three as he climbs up to the farthest bench on the bleachers.

Roman recoils from their distance and the cold atmosphere that settles inside the gym. He tries to call out Janus’s name but it dies on his tongue when the doors swing open once more, letting Patton and Logan through.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Virgil comments as they watch the two shuffle in awkwardly.

“On the contrary, we are,” Logan says dismissively. “Patton and I have been sent to detention as well.”

“What?” Remus snorts. “What for?”

“I decided that this was the only way we can finally have everyone together in one location, where no one is allowed to leave, and finally settle this month-long problem once and for all.” Logan clears his throat. “I wasn’t very adept at knowing what behaviors would constitute detention time, so I just pulled down my pants in front of Mrs. Simmons during World History.”

They gape at him with wide eyes.

“Could you do it again?” Remus says, raising his right hand.

Logan ignores him and glances at Patton. “Patton, on the other hand...”

Patton maintains his blank expression. “I punched Anton in the face.”

“Anton Reed? Why would you do that, Pat?” Virgil asks with concern.

Patton sniffles, twisting the sleeves of his cardigan. “He was saying really mean things about you and Janus and everyone. It was wrong. So, I punched him.”

Patton’s shoulders shake and Logan wraps an arm around him. 

In that moment, the doors swing open once again and Principal Warner steps in holding a box. “Evans, Picani, sit down,” he commands.

They do as told and the Principal stands in front of them, sighing. “Most of you are here for the first time. Some of you aren’t. But what I find in common with all of you is your utter disrespect—to me, to each other, and to your own selves.”

He looks at each of the boys. Patton, Virgil, and Roman have their eyes downcast in guilt; Logan is looking at him with attention; and Janus and Remus are watching him with boredom. “I want you all to spend the next few hours thinking about your mistakes and make a plan for change. To become better individuals... and better friends.”

He drops his box full of metal scrapers on the bench. “Define what ‘respect’ means to you—and you’ll do so while scraping up every goddamn piece of disrespectful gum from underneath these bleachers from now until 7 PM. Do I make myself clear?”

A chorus of groans sound out and he grunts, “Start now, gentleman. I want this place spotless.”

Then, he turns on his heel to leave.

“Fucking bullshit,” Remus seethes.

“If we start now, we can finish in an hour,” Logan says.

“I’m not touching dried up gum, that’s gross!” Roman whines.

“You would touch dirtier things, Princey,” Virgil tells him, rolling his eyes. “Don’t act so innocent.”

“Haha. Don’t pretend that it isn’t you who brought us all into this mess in the first place,” Roman answers back with hostility.

“Whoa, touchy much?”

“Will you both just shut the hell up before you start _another_ fistfight?” Remus yells from behind them. “God, I want to kill you all with my bare hands!”

“Please do,” Virgil grumbles. “So we can end this misery.”

“Great,” Janus murmurs, his voice startling the rest of the group. “Three hours with a bunch of baboons. Is this what you wanted, Logan?”

Logan glares at him.

“Why did I even think we could all be friends?” Roman laughs with contempt. “We’re all so horrible to each other! It’s a miracle we even lasted this long—”

“Stop.”

Everyone looks at Patton, who has keeled over, hugging himself tightly and shuddering. “Just stop. Stop this. Stop.”

Remus jumps to his feet. “Pat?”

Patton lets out a loud cry and sobs on his hands, and Remus runs down to him to envelop him in a warm embrace.

“I hate this! What happened to us? We’re supposed to be a family! We’re supposed to love each other and protect each other and be happy forever! Our friendship was supposed to be perfect!” Patton wails, violently rubbing his eyes. “I tried so hard! I did everything I could! Where did I go wrong? Where did I go wrong?!”

“That’s enough, Patton,” Logan tells him sharply.

Roman shoots him a glare. “Listen, Pocket Protector—”

“No,” he stresses. “ _You_ all listen to me. I have been silenced time and time again. Enough is enough. Let me say my piece.”

Roman’s mouth clamps shut and Patton’s sobs grow quieter.

Logan stands up and faces them again. “No friendship, no family should be perfect. Pressuring ourselves to maintain this unrealistic expectation is setting us all up for failure. And it already has. We’re fighting and yelling, instead of asking for explanations, instead of listening without judgment, instead of saying sorry and asking for forgiveness.”

“All this began because we wouldn’t be honest with each other. Patton has been repressing his feelings and attempting to maintain order by making us ignore the tensions and avoid talking about petty squabbles. Virgil will push away anyone he doesn’t trust, but won’t even tell you why in fear of realizing that he’s wrong. Janus harbors so many secrets that we can’t figure out, Remus will do anything to feel needed, and Roman shuts out the truth when he can’t accept it.”

Logan breathes in and calms himself. “What happened here?” he says, much softer now. “Are you all really going to ruin years of friendship just because of a simple issue that you could have cleared up if you just sat down together and talked calmly? I don’t want you all to lose each other and eventually regret it, years down the line. I have only been with you for two months and I’ve witnessed the love, care, and camaraderie between you all that I truly wish I had been a part of years ago.”

He places a hand on Patton’s shoulder, on top of Remus’s hand. “Yes, you are family. But family can fight. Family can hurt. No family is perfect, and no family will always be happy. We are so, so young. We have many things we’ve yet to learn. We won’t have everything figured out right away. We shouldn’t. But we need to help each other.”

Janus narrows his eyes. “Why?” 

“Why?” Logan parrots. “Well, who was there when you needed help the most? Was it not each other?” He looks at Virgil. “When you had felt so alone and misunderstood, who became your friend and made you feel wanted?”

Virgil bites the edge of his thumb. “Patton did.”

“Remus, who gave you space to make art, plays games with you on weekends, and has never made you feel that your interests are too atrocious?”

Remus blinks at him. “Virgil?”

“Roman, who has always looked out for you and loved you unconditionally no matter how much you fight?”

Roman sighs. “Remus, of course.”

“And Janus.”

Janus quirks a brow.

“When everyone else shunned you, who gave you the comfort of knowing that there’s someone you can always trust to stay by your side?”

Janus doesn’t reply but Logan waits.

He heaves a sigh and says quietly, “Roman.”

Roman glances at him with a dejected look and Janus turns away quickly.

“And I’m sure there have been plenty of instances too,” Logan continues. “This can’t keep going on. Please, everyone. Let’s just talk. And listen. And, most importantly, forgive.”

And for the first time, everyone listened to Logan.


	40. Somehow the Waters Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they finally get through their damage together.

_Hey, you_

_Show me that solvable problem_

_We can get through this_

_I’ll do the hardest part with you._

_— True Kinda Love, Steven Universe_

The six boys space themselves out in a circle on the vinyl flooring equidistantly, save for Patton and Remus who lean against each other for physical comfort. Logan sits on Patton’s right while Virgil sits on Remus’s left, and Roman and Janus sit the farthest apart from each other.

Logan’s eyes scan the group before he says, “I’ll begin.”

Everyone turns their attention to him.

“I am not one to care about gaining friends and maintaining friendships. I liked being alone, simply because I deemed it as hardly worth the trouble and the migraine. If I’m being honest, I would have ended our companionship the moment I started seeing the metaphorical red flags—the arguments over differences of opinion and the repression of conflicts, to name a few.”

“But I have grown to be fond of you all, which is why I’ve decided to go against my logical reasoning and help you sort this out,” he continues. “I’m not good at expressing my affection the way most of you do…but this is close enough.”

He looks at Roman. “Roman, my sincerest apologies for our initial fight. I enjoyed your theatrical performance that it altered my opinions on theater in general.”

Then, to Patton. “I apologize for having brought up something you did in the past that you were not proud of, Patton. I shouldn’t have. I apologize for the hurt it’s caused on both you and Roman.”

“Remus and Virgil, I appreciate you two for confiding your problems with me during all this. I just hope we can communicate better,” he continues. “After all, SSoM for life, fam.”

Virgil snorts and Remus slaps a hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing.

Lastly, Logan turns to face Janus. “I’m terribly sorry for getting involved in all this. I tried to put a stop to it, but I have…failed. What I told you earlier still holds true. If you let us, we’ll help you.”

Janus doesn’t say anything and Logan flashes a strained smile before gesturing to Patton to go next.

“I’m sorry. All this was my fault,” Patton whispers.

“Pat, no,” Remus shakes his head.

“Let me finish Rem. I should have made our group a safer space to talk things through instead of making you all pretend with me that everything’s okay. I learned the hard way that it isn’t. I’m sorry if I ever invalidated anyone’s feelings or tried so badly to fix your issues when I should have just backed off or offered my help. The thing is I…”

Patton trails off and he gives both Logan and Janus a look of panic. Janus nods for him to continue and Patton, mustering the courage within him, says, “I thought taking care of you all and making sure you’re all happy would be my reason for being. So when things go awry, I take it too much to heart, believing that I failed you. I put too much pressure on myself to make you all feel loved. I know now how that can suffocate all of us in the end. And then I get scared of expressing my sadness and anger, thinking that keeping them inside is a way of coping. But it’s made everything worse.”

He hangs his head low. “I’m really, really sorry. I can’t force things to be better. I can’t force _myself_ to be better. I’ll be more open to you all from now on. I’m sorry, Logan, for always shutting you out instead of listening to you. To Virgil too, for brushing off your concerns instead of helping you through them. Roman, Remus, it hurts me to see you two fight all the time now.” He smiles at them softly. “After all, you two are still my favorite.”

Roman clutches his chest. “Oh, Pat.”

“I’m your _favorite_ favorite, right?” Remus wiggles his brows.

Patton only giggles. “And, uhm, Jan…”

“I know, Patton,” Janus says, awkwardly. “We’ve talked. It’s alright.”

Patton smiles at that. “I also asked Logan what was on that ‘file’ you all were fighting about earlier so I wouldn’t be kept in the dark. I’m sorry that it had to come from him. But I’ll wait for you to talk to me about it when you’re ready.”

Janus nods appreciatively.

“Well, fuck,” Remus breathes out. “My turn, I guess? Shit, where to begin. I guess I should let you all know that everything I’ve been doing is because of my deep-seated trauma from when our dad crashed his car and died.”

Roman winces but stays quiet.

“I’ve been blaming myself and I kept it all in too. ‘Cause, geez, how could I ever expect you all to understand how I feel? So I kept my mind and hands busy with art and games and distressing the student body with my pent-up rage and sadness. But really, I felt so, so, so alone. So whenever someone tells me they need me…well, shit, how could I ever refuse them?”

Virgil hangs his head low with remorse and Remus reaches out to ruffle his hair. “Yeah, I’m sorry, Virgie, for enabling your behavior ‘cause I didn’t want to fail you. You trusted me so much. You reminded me of Ro-Ro a bit.”

“I find that insulting,” Virgil mumbles. Roman swats his arm.

“It’s thanks to Logie that I got to actually process…everything. He’s a really cool guy! I now call dibs on him being my best friend, fuck y’all.”

Logan blushes but clears his throat. “Continue, Remus.”

“Right!” Remus looks at Patton. “I’m sorry, Pattycake, for making you feel like you can’t talk to me and Ro-Ro ‘cause we were focused on other stuff. I promise that we’ll do better to get through this mess.”

Then, with a more solemn tone, he tells Janus, “We fucked up. You probably hate our guts and it’s fine. I’m sorry for almost hitting your face, too. I’ll do anything to make it up to you, though. Just say the word, and I’ll perform a séance in an abandoned haunted building for you so we can terrorize this city with our legion of the undead. And I mean that with all seriousness. I’ve always loved you, but I came from a place of insecurity—Roman wouldn’t ever leave your side, and I felt that I was losing him. But I understand shit better now.”

Remus’s eyes flicker to Roman’s and he bites his lip. “I’m sorry Ro-Ro, I… geez, I don’t wanna ugly cry in front of you hoes.”

“I already know, Rem,” Roman says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s okay. We’re good, we always will be.” He looks around. “Well, I might as well go next. I mean—ugh, I really, really mean this. I’m sorry, Logan, for making you feel like a nobody. I’m sorry too, Patton, that you had to clean up after all my fights with people. And I’m really sorry, Virgil, for all the mean things I said and for expressing my anger to you a lot. Honestly. I regret them.”

“It’s-it’s cool, Princey,” Virgil stammers. “I’m not good at expressing emotions but...can it be an understood thing? That I... forgive you all and that I’m really sorry I fucked up. And I’m seriously relieved that you’re all still willing to be my friend despite the shit I did. At least... I hope so.” 

He glances at Janus. “You were right. I was selfish and you didn’t deserve any of this shit from me. I’m terrified—of everything. Of things changing. Of things not lasting. Of people leaving, of people hurting me, of people hurting the ones I care about. So I abandon them before it even happens. It’s terrible but I just can’t help myself. I need it to stop. I need... you all to help me.”

Quietly, he whispers, “I never wanted any of this to happen. I’m really sorry.”

There is a brief quiet that follows and, for a moment, a faint spark of hope shines through the gloominess that has surrounded them. But the spark dies as quickly as it came when Janus lets out a long sigh, leaning on his left arm placed flat on the floor and tossing his head to the side. “Well,” he drawls out, “what a predicament this is.”

Everyone watches him warily. “Am I supposed to accept all your apologies and move forward as though my dignity hadn’t been stomped to the ground from what you’ve done these past weeks?”

“No,” Logan says. “We don’t expect you to. We just hope you understand our regret and our willingness to move forward as better friends. And, hopefully, you will forgive us someday.”

“And what do I do until then? Hang out with you and pretend I’m fine?”

Patton chokes back a sob. “If-if you don’t want to anymore, it’s okay... but we don’t want you to leave. _I_ don’t want you to leave!”

“But this is all because of me, isn’t it?” Janus scoffs. “Subtract me from the equation, and it all works out. You’ve enjoyed lunch periods without me, right? You won’t even notice that I’m gone.”

Roman’s voice is soft and broken when he says, “I will.”

Janus steels himself. “You’ll get over it.”

“Can you at least tell us why you hid all of this from us?” Virgil insists.

Janus averts his eyes. Fuck, he thinks, might as well lay himself bare and vulnerable. If this is the last moment he’ll ever have with them, then he should just be honest. He looks at Roman who is staring blankly at the floor and wishes he could clutch onto him for strength. But what right does he have now?

“I’ve been lying,” he begins, “because I wanted so badly for this lie of a life to come true. I put on a mask every day just to disassociate myself from my tragic life. I’ve lied, I’ve deceived, I’ve connived without your knowledge. Make no mistake; I will not apologize for what I’ve done. It’s every man for himself in this society. A dog-eat-dog world. You either bite back, or you die. What would you do if you were in my shoes? Everything I did—I did it all to survive.”

Suddenly, Roman speaks quietly. “For someone who did it all to survive, you risked losing everything.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, dearest,” Janus tells him, just as softly. “I’ve already lost everything.”

Silence fills the space they all share. Janus’ eyes flicker to Logan, then to Patton, then to the rest—all staring at him with forlorn looks. That’s when he knows that the truth had just seeped through his lie not through his words but with his face, all worn out from putting up a strong facade and from withstanding the emotional burdens he carries deep in his heart. The truth teases the corners of his eyes, rolling down his cheeks with every blink, and he scowls, attempting to wipe them away with his thumb. “God, I deserve this, don’t I?” he finds himself mumbling. “I fucking deserve this.”

Fucking karma. He deserves to be hated. He deserves this lifelong pain. He deserves to be alone—he always has been. No mother to lean on, no father to look up to (yet), no more friends to hang onto. There’s no one he can rely on but himself.

Except, a pair of strong arms that encircle his waist and wrap him up with warmth are insisting to prove him wrong once more. Janus’s breath hitches as Roman holds him, burying his face on the crook of Janus’s neck. “You don’t,” he whispers. “You don’t, Jan. You still have me. I’m so sorry.”

Janus slowly places his hands on Roman’s back, speechless and blushing furiously at this public display of tender affection. He sees Patton crawl over to him too and gets smothered by a second tight embrace.

Remus stands next and he pulls Virgil’s jacket to drag him toward the trio before throwing his arms around his twin. Virgil, with a sigh, pats Remus’s back and reaches out to hold Patton’s hand. Logan smiles at the group and scoots over to place a hand on Janus’s thigh.

“God,” Janus says, seething with embarrassment. “I can’t breathe.”

“We love you!” Patton tells him. “We’ll help you through this, I promise! Please forgive us, Janus. We’ll be better.”

“I think I’ll die from suffocation first before that happens.”

“Just shut up and let us relish this hug!” Remus whines, tightening his embrace.

Janus huffs at that. With a sigh, he feels his body relax and he lets himself melt into the warmth of this tender and true love as everything—all the pain, the sadness, the fear, and the anger—slowly fade away to welcome the blossoming of a new beginning.

There is one last thing left to be done.

When the group hug ends and everyone pulls away, Roman helps Janus up to his feet and takes him to the opposite end of the gym to talk in private. Logan, Patton, Remus, and Virgil pretend they don’t notice but give each other knowing looks.

“I have one thing to ask,” Logan tells them. “Is everyone in this group queer?”

“I am,” Remus answers, beaming. “Those lovebirds are gay. Virgil’s Ace and Patton’s Aro.”

Logan nods. “I see. I don’t think I’ve ever confided in any of you, but I’m an aromantic demisexual. Perhaps that’s why I’ve become so invested in this friendship. I somehow felt reassured that you’d understand me.”

“Aww, Logan!” Patton gushes. “You’ve always been welcome here!”

Virgil winces. “You better tell Princey. He misgendered you earlier on, didn’t he?”

Remus gasps. “You’re right! Fuck!”

“It’s alright,” Logan smiles. “He tends to figuratively run his mouth without thinking first, but I don’t suppose he meant any harm by it. I’ll let him know after they’ve made up.”

They glance at the two talking at the corner.

“You think they’ll date for real now?” Virgil asks.

“Bitch, I’ve been waiting for this moment for years.” Remus waves his hand in the air. “Anyone wanna bet 10 dollars who kisses who first?”

“Roman will!” Patton coos. “Did you see the way he looked at Jan earlier?”

“Ugh, yeah, you should have heard him wax poetic to my face earlier.” Virgil snorts. “I could almost puke.”

“Ha! I’m betting on JJ. He’s been pining for him for years, after all.”

“Has he? That’s surprising,” Logan says. “I’ll bet on Janus too, then. He _did_ give in after Roman’s moving gesture of affection.”

“Two against two then, fuckers. Pretend we’re talking about something else so they don’t notice how I’m craning my neck to listen to their conversation.”

“Too late. Janus is giving you a dirty look, Dukey.”

“Ah, shit.”

“Hey,” Roman whispers, leaning his weight against the wall next to him.

Janus strains a smile.

“That night,” he confesses timidly, “I regret every single thing I said.”

Janus shakes his head. “You shouldn’t.”

“But I do. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t...honest.”

“Sounded honest to me.”

“It wasn’t completely. Because I forgot to tell you something important.” Roman licks his lips in apprehension and mutters, “Yeah, I was hurt and shaken that you wouldn’t trust me to accept and understand what you’re going through. But it doesn’t change how I feel. I still like you, Jan. Like, _really_ like you. I still want to be with you. I’ve been in denial for far too long. It’s time you know just how much you matter to me.”

He lightly grazes the back of Janus’s hand and holds it tenderly. “You said before that you could give me the world, if you could. But I don’t need the world. I just need you. And the truth. No more lies. No more secrets. Just talk to me, and I’ll help you. I’m here for you—I always have been. Just let me in.”

Janus snorts. “So Prince Charming _has_ come to rescue me after all.”

Roman laughs. “One thing I’m sure of is that you are the last person who would ever need saving—especially from me.”

“You’re right; that bruise on your cheek is a testament to that.”

He covers the bruise with his free hand grimacing. A retort dies on the tip of his tongue as he watches a smirk rise on the corner of Janus’s lips that crinkles his tear-stained puffy eyes ever so slightly—melting the ice that exists between them. Roman drops his hand with a fond sigh and he gently squeezes Janus’s palm, feeling his pulse drum rapidly inside his skull as Janus allows him to thread their fingers together, the same way he did that night in his room. “Forgive me, Janus,” Roman says. “Please, let’s start over.”

Janus stares back at him. He feels pinpricks of warmth build in his chest, gazing into Janus’s bright brown eyes—hope buried in a veneer of suspicion. “You’d really want to be with someone so damaged? You truly are a moron.”

“Are you kidding? You’re the bravest and strongest person I know. I spent years feeling threatened by your talent, charisma, and confidence, scared to admit to myself that I can never match you. But I know now that I shouldn’t think of you in that way. I need to support you the way you have been supporting me all these years. Whether as a friend or…as a lover.” Roman blushes deep red. “If you’ll still have me.”

Janus averts his eyes and he murmurs, “You’re such a sap.” It was meant to have a bite in it, Roman thinks, but the words drip down like honey instead. 

Roman smiles apprehensively. “You don’t need to give me your answer now. Not after all this mess. But fair warning: I’m gonna do everything to sweep you off your feet again.”

“Again? That implies that you already have.”

“Well, a little trash rat told me that you’ve been pining over me for quite some time now.” Roman insinuates, mirth filling his chest as Janus blushes, flashing a glare at Remus from the other end of the gym.

“Pining is such a strong word,” Janus answers. “More like willingly tolerating.”

“Whatever, bitch. I’ve seen your face light up at a _pin_.”

Janus turns away quickly to hide his face which completely grew red. “Shut up,” he hisses.

Roman smirks. “Think about it: tulips, serenades, poetry—”

“Somehow, I am not looking forward to it.”

“But I will.” He holds Janus’s other hand and holds it close to his chest. “You deserve nothing less."

Janus draws a sharp intake of his breath as Roman softly plants a kiss on his knuckles. Roman smiles at him. “So? Will you let me?”

Janus purses his lips for a moment before sighing, “What would this tender moment be for if not to lead to a happy ending? I might as well say yes.”

“You could be a little more enthusiastic,” Roman pouts.

“Believe me, I would kiss you if I didn’t know that they’re placing bets over there.”

Roman blushes. “Maybe later then?”

Janus chuckles at the hopeful look Roman gives him. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says teasingly. “Let me think about it.”

They hold hands and walk back to the group, Remus groaning, “ _Hijo de puta_ , seriously?! Not even a smack?”

“Fuck you,” Janus tells him. “None of you deserve the satisfaction.”

“But are you dating now?” Virgil asks.

The two look at each other.

“Baby steps,” Janus answers softly.

“But ‘tis a happy ending indeed!” Roman exclaims, gesturing his hand in the air with a flourish. “All we need now is a big dance number, and we’ll be like _The Breakfast Club!_ ”

“How about we start scraping the gum?” Logan offers.

Roman gasps with offense. “Eww! No!”

Remus giggles menacingly. “Let’s say we did, and _not_ do it.”

“That would be lying!” Patton gasps.

Virgil jumps to his feet to grab his bag from the benches. “Fuck it. Let’s just bolt.”

Janus shrugs. “I’m with Virgil on that one.”

“Prison escape!!!” Remus exclaims excitedly, bouncing on his heels now. Logan glances at all of them worryingly.

“But—”

“Milkshakes at Shelby’s?” Roman asks, squeezing Janus’s hand.

Remus slings his arm around Roman’s shoulder. “Let’s do it, bitch!”

“Well, if everyone wants to, then let’s go!” Patton holds Logan’s wrist. “Come on, Logan! Unless you’re too _slow_ -gan!”

Logan breathes out slowly. “You all have officially made me lose my metaphorical marbles. Alright. Let’s go.”

Principal Warner will come back that evening, sighing as he sees an empty gymnasium and his untouched box. “I’m getting too old for this,” he laments. And he turns off the light and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the world is hard and unkind, never allow yourself to be hard and unkind to it.
> 
> One chapter left! Thank you again for taking this journey with me. ❤️


	41. Epilogue

_“Time doesn’t heal. It’s what you do with the time. Healing is possible when we choose to take responsibility, when we choose to take risks, and finally, when we choose to release the wound, to let go of the past or the grief.”_

_— Edith Eger_

Roman stands in front of a single white door of a small, modest pastry shop with a determined look on his face. His heart thumps in time with the rustle of the crisp autumn wind as he takes a second to smoothen out his hair.

With a nod of his head, he swings open the door, a tiny bell announcing his arrival, and glances at the counter with bated breath. A head pops out of the display stands with a gleaming smile. “Heya, Ro-Ro!”

“Patton, my good boy!” Roman bellows. “I have come to whisk you both away from this delightful place!”

The manager of the shop, Quil, pops her head out from the kitchen door and chuckles. “I knew I heard a familiar voice. Taking my part-timers already? Alright, boys, you can go.”

“Thanks, ma’am!” Patton chirps, untying the back of his apron and neatly folding it on top of the counter.

Roman leans his elbow on the surface and smirks at his friend. “So, where’s your co-worker? I heard from the grapevine that he’s gorgeous and totally my type. Maybe you can arrange a date for us.”

“Ooh,” Patton coos. “I’d _loaf_ to help you with that, friendo! It’s the _yeast_ I could _dough_!”

“Whoa, triple bread pun whammy!”

“There’s _Pat-ton_ of that where it came from!”

“What are you two doing?”

Roman and Patton turn their heads towards the source of the sudden voice and Roman grins at Janus, dusting off some flour from his pants with one hand and holding a tiny pink box in the other.

“Just fulfilling my fantasies of being in a coffee shop AU of my life where I woo the hot baker with my dashing looks and savoir-faire,” Roman answers, winking at him.

“That’s nice. Patton, he’s all yours,” Janus asks deadpanned.

“Aww, Roman!” Patton gushes teasingly.

Roman stammers. “Wha—no, I was talking about you! Ah, nevermind, you’ve ruined it!”

“I live to disappoint, love,” Janus chuckles, hooking an arm around Patton’s. “If you’re done acting like a complete fool, we’ll be waiting in your car.”

“Hey!” Roman calls after them as the two exit the pastry shop giggling. He grunts, but a smile grows on his face witnessing Janus and Patton talking and joking with one another completely free of their hostility.

It’s been weeks since their time in detention that changed their lives and their friendship. Patton had asked Janus to join him for a part-time job at this pastry shop, and Janus had stopped his secret side-hustle for good. His father had also begun his road to sobriety, taking therapy sessions with Dr. Emile to finally process his pain and loss in a much healthier way. Meanwhile, Patton has also started to open up to his dad about learning to let go of his need to bear the responsibility of others’ happiness and faking his own, and he is definitely much lighter than before.

It took a while for the awkwardness between Virgil and Janus to dissipate. But at least they were trying. Virgil started doing his family’s laundry at the laundromat Janus frequented, partly because the washers were actually much better there and also because keeping Janus company on shitty Sunday mornings was the least he could do after everything he did. 

Virgil also began spending more time with Logan and Remus, especially now that Patton’s busy with part-time work. The dynamic between the three seemed to be great for his mental and emotional well-being too; he appreciated Logan being able to keep him grounded, and enjoyed doing art or playing games with Remus when he needed to get his mind off of things. Significantly, Virgil was much more able to control his fears and anxieties, knowing that he has bravely placed his faith in his group of friends that they will hold him, listen to him, and never judge him when he had problems. So far, they haven’t failed him. But this time, he is no longer scared of the possibility.

Roman and Remus talked more now too, in the sense that they communicated their own thoughts and feelings much better to one another. Their dad was no longer a taboo subject. Roman likewise started showing his appreciation to Remus more by spending more of his free time with him and supporting Remus’s own ventures.

Meanwhile, Roman and Janus have been taking it slow, which didn’t bother Roman in the slightest. He likes getting to woo Janus in every romantic and borderline embarrassing way, from picking him up at home—his real one this time—to writing little notes that he sneaks inside Janus’s pockets or inserts through Janus’s locker door. He particularly loves getting to talk to Janus’s father, whom he clicked with right away, about writing and poetry. Mostly, he just feels relieved that Jace isn’t a homophobe after all and actually approves of him being Janus’s boyfriend. (Roman had become flustered at the time Jace expressed this out loud, admitting that he hasn’t come around to asking Janus formally to be his partner, unsure if Janus is ready for that commitment.)

But it’s the beginning of December, and the cold is as crisp and chilly as it could be, and Roman looks at Janus from a distance shivering a bit and yelling at him to hurry up, and he laughs to himself at how strange and unpredictable his lover truly is.

Yes, “lover.” Not a Freudian Slip—not when Janus basically ruined his 26-step plan to catch him off-guard one evening, showing up to their weekend study session with a bouquet of lovely dried flowers and asking, “Is it worthy enough for a Prince?”

And Roman, speechless and blown away, had sputtered, “More than you’d ever know.”

He catches up to the two figures standing by his car and he wraps his arms around Janus’s waist, lifting him up and spinning him around.

“Holy fuck— _stopstopstop_!” Janus hisses.

Roman puts him down laughing before leaning forward to kiss Janus with fervor. 

“ _Te amo, mi vida_ ,” he whispers with a small smile.

“You’re ridiculous,” Janus answers softly, blushing. “Come on, we’ll be late.”

“You two are so sweet,” Patton gushes, climbing into Roman’s car.

“Don’t encourage him, Patton,” Janus chides.

“Shut up, you love me,” Roman teases. “Onward we go!”

They arrive at Logan’s home where Remus greets them at the front door with a look of annoyance. “Where the fuck have you all been? We’ve been waiting for _ages!_ ”

“Chill, we’re already here!” Roman tells him, shrugging off his coat at the doorway with Patton while Janus makes a beeline for the fireplace.

“I hate the holidays,” he seethes, rubbing his arms up and down.

“Same,” Virgil mutters from the floor next to the open fire, drinking from his mug of tea.

“Where’s Lo-Lo?” Patton chirps, glancing around the living area.

“Getting our baby!” Remus says with excitement. “Are you ready?”

On cue, Logan appears from the other room with a box in hand. He carefully places it on the floor and lifts the lid. All five boys crowd around him, peering into the box with bated breath.

Patton immediately squeals, cupping his cheeks. “Oh my gosh, it’s so cute!”

“Holy shit, you guys really did it?” Virgil says with awe.

“How in Hera’s name was that even possible?” Roman gasps.

“Ye brother of little faith!” Remus cackles.

Janus looks at Logan with wide eyes. “I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I picked it up?"

“Of course,” Logan answers.

Janus carefully scoops his hand inside the box and takes out the little chick—alive and chirping and grazing Janus’s skin with tiny pecks—that Logan and Remus had successfully bred.

“What’s its name?” Patton asks, petting the chick’s head with his finger.

“Only the best name I could think of!” Remus slings an arm around Logan’s shoulders. “Come on, guess!”

“Probably a fusion of your names! Regan? Lomus?”

“Nah, I think it’s something weird,” Virgil says, shaking his head. “Like The Great and Indestructible Golden Pecker of Sanderville City.”

“Nah, probably something like Mother Clucker or Chick-eel O’niel,” Roman snorts.

Patton’s face lights up at that. “Or Chick-a-las Cage! Shell-don! Amelia Egg-hart!”

“Albert Eggstein,” Roman adds with a laugh. “Or Cluck Norris. Or Meryl Cheep!”

Virgil growls, pulling his hood over his head. “Make it stop!”

Janus groans along with him. “ _Please_ tell us so we can end this string of jokes.”

Remus laughs. “Okay. It’s Thomas.”

The four stare at them with wide eyes. 

“Gotcha didn’t I? I’m silly like that.” Remus sticks his tongue out.

Logan carefully takes Thomas from Janus’s palm and smiles at it with pride. “I knew I was correct in choosing Remus as my partner. Only such ingenuity can lead to a result such as this that is beyond satisfactory.”

“Aw, shucks,” Remus mutters bashfully. “It’s you who pulled it off, you know.”

“I’d hate to interrupt this tender moment, but we’ve got to get a move on,” Janus says, standing up. “We have places to be.”

“Did we figure out how we’re all going to fit inside Roman’s car?” Patton asks.

“Three in the back and one stays in the trunk,” Roman suggests in jest.

“I’ll do it!” Remus says, shooting his arm up in the air. “Wrap me up with rope first so that I can at least pretend it’s a real kidnapping!”

“You will _not_ do that,” Janus tells him disapprovingly.

“I’ll go ahead and bring Thomas back to its cage upstairs,” Logan says. 

“Hold up, L.” Virgil takes out his phone and swipes it up to open his camera. “Take it, Dukey.”

“Gladly!” Remus takes the phone and extends his arm as the rest huddle behind him. Logan lifts his palms to put Thomas in the center while Patton hugs him from behind, flashing a wide grin. Virgil kneels on the floor with Remus and holds up a peace sign, while Roman holds Remus’s shoulder with one hand and Janus’s waist with the other. “Everyone, say juicy butthole!” Remus says.

“Ew, Rem!” Roman winces.

Remus clicks the button. “Ha! Gotcha!”

“Take it again, bitch!”

“Fuck you, I look stunning here!”

“You’re walking all the way back!”

“For the love of— _give me that!_ ” Virgil grabs his phone from Remus’s hand and retakes the photo himself, clicking a few times until they’re all satisfied.

They all pack up and leave Logan’s home and squeeze themselves inside Roman’s car before making their way to the King’s house. As one could imagine, the entire drive goes horribly, and they had to stop halfway to switch Remus, who had initially sat in front because he was much bulkier in build than the other four, with Virgil after the twins had started arguing and hitting each other, nearly running over a stray cat. (The two got an earful from a fuming Janus and Logan was _this_ close to driving instead.) The rest of the ride was spent in silence, until a song from _SpongeBob the Musical_ came on the music player which got both Patton, Roman, and Remus happily singing along.

When they finally reach the twins’ home, Valerie greets them all with mugs of hot chocolate in the kitchen.

“I readied the den for you boys,” she tells them with a bright smile.

“Thanks, mom!” Roman and Remus say in unison before the group heads down with their mugs in hand. Soon, with all their coats off, they huddle together on the leather couch, all snuggled up in warm blankets.

“What movie did we decide on?” Logan asks, adjusting his glasses.

“ _Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse!_ ” Remus answers with excitement.

“You _do_ know that we watch this at least once a year?” Janus mumbles, lazily scrolling through his Twitter.

“And that brings me to my spider fact of the day! Did you know…”

Roman zones out as he looks around him—Virgil leaning comfortably against Patton, Patton adjusting the duvet draped over his and Logan’s legs, Logan listening attentively to Remus’s ramblings, and Janus, holding Roman’s hand, looking mildly disgusted at Remus’s factoids—and he smiles warmly, grateful to have been able to overcome what they did those months ago.

He doesn’t know if this peace will last. Arguments and misunderstandings are still bound to happen. After all, they’re such different people with their own pains to bear. But there’s comfort in knowing that this true kind of love that they all share for one another will help see them through the most difficult of situations once again. 

“Roman?”

Roman blinks and sees them all looking expectantly at him.

“Press play, _el prinsipe!_ ” Patton chirps.

With a grin, Roman grabs the remote.

And their late afternoon movie marathon weekend begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, SO much for joining me on this long journey! I don't usually write multi-chapter fics so that was honestly a challenge to complete. Hey, fun fact: this is the first time I actually finished a multi-chapter fanfic in my entire life!
> 
> This was both fun and tedious to write but I'm glad I got to share this story with you. I don't think I'll ever do any more High School AUs (because if I do, they'll end up being off-shoots of this, considering that I used up all my headcanons for them here haha).
> 
> To all those who leave amazing comments, THANK YOU SO MUCH! To everyone else who message me on Twitter and Instagram saying they love my stories, I appreciate you! It means so much to me as a writer to know that my work brightens someone's day.
> 
> Please let me know if you loved this story over on my Twitter or Instagram account @reseaseo! Check out my other Sanders Sides works too, if you can!
> 
> I love you all! And remember: when the world is harsh and unkind to you, don't let yourself be hard to it. Always strive to have compassion, understanding, and empathy towards people who need it the most; you don't know what they may be struggling with. Lastly, help is always there for those who ask for it.
> 
> Have a great day ❤️


End file.
